#'...is it better when i do it like that?'

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!?

Warnings- Toxic attraction, jealousy, arguments, very emotional, fighting and break ups, reader being depressed and emotional, Jenna being protective, Nanami giving no fucks, Satoru being contemplative and slightly less stupid, fingering, sexual tension, light choking, public play, squirting, reader is better at feelings finally, and A LOT more angst WC this chap- 11k

A/N- Taglist closed- this chap is ANGSTY you've been warned, please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Four - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Six>>> (coming soon)

Chapter Five

“Nanami, you didn’t have to…” Nanami Kento is at your front door with two coffees in hand, smiling that handsome smile, eyes behind his dark green glasses.

“No worries, love. I was passing by and remembered bringing you home, I realized it’s right here.”

“Thank you!” You lean forward and press a kiss on his cheek, the guilt eating at you slowly.

What if he knew you did a fucking porn shoot the other day?

He knows your situation, but what would he think of that, in fact what do you think of that? Of yourself, as Jenna said, changing for Satoru? He’s never pushed you into anything, and these things were all brought on by your own self interest - of wanting to be just everything for him so that he would not stray. It was selfish of you, knowing his career.

You knew he wasn’t interested in more, but let yourself live in the delusion, the thoughts that you could be enough to fill all of the voids there, when in fact he has made his own thoughts clear. He loves spending time with you, he loves fucking you, the two of you make excellent money - triple last time actually - so for Satoru, it’s clearly a convenient situation.

Nothing more.

Not having seen Satoru for a couple days, he texted you several times through- out the day, he called you before bed, it all felt too good, too natural, too perfect for his perceived friendship, the one that you were honestly ruining with how you are. You wish you could be normal about it all, that you could just enjoy whatever this was, but her words keep ringing in your mind.

Losing yourself.

Are you?

“This is my favorite,” you say as you take a sip, gesturing your head for him to come in then. “I just stress baked some muffins, want some?”

“Stress baked?” He asks, amused now, and you giggle a bit, sighing.

“Mmm, yes I do that.” He eyes the kitchen counter, with about thirty six muffins already on it, of different flavors. “Take some actually.”

“What do you do with all of these?” He grabs one and sets his coffee down on your counter then.

“I bring them to all of the neighbors, they love me.” He chuckles, the sound throaty and inviting, biting into one and moaning, shutting his eyes.

“They’re so good,” he’s licking a bit off his lower lip, and you smile, grabbing one and nibbling yourself. “You look like that, work hard and bake?”

“You’re giving me too much credit.” He bites again, raising a brow.

“Seems like quite a woman to me.”

“Nanami!” You playfully shove his chest a little, and he takes your hand, it feels so warm and good, swallowing your much smaller hand in his. You enjoy it, you just wish you felt something like you did with the elusive pornstar you’re hopeless for.

“Would you like to-” the doorbell rings, you smile as you drop your hand.

“Let me grab that,” he nods, sipping his coffee, when you open the door, and see Satoru leaning in the doorway, coffees in his hands. “Oh!”

“Got your favorite, sweets.” He steps in, leaning his tall self down to kiss your cheek, when he catches sight of Nanami in your kitchen.

Shit.

“You got company?” His tone is strained, and you wonder why - he clearly had been a little irritated about your date, but it’s not like he’s made a step for you all to go further. And you’re too fucking scared to bring it up and lose this.

“He stopped by to bring me coffee. Looks like I’ll be well caffeinated." You smile, but Satoru’s blue eyes are darting across your shoulder at the buff man leaning against your counter.

“Muffin?” Nanami’s words make Satoru unreasonably furious, how comfortable and at ease he looks in your kitchen.

“I’d love one.” He steps past you, you’re closing the door, the tension as Satoru steps in is far too palpable, it seems to amuse Nanami more.

Nanami hands Satoru one, and he yanks it from his hand, biting it and setting down his cup, moaning and shutting his eyes then. “Aren’t they yummy?”

“Fuck,” he moans again, looking at you now. “You bake this good?”

“Stress baking, that's all.” You smile a little, standing between the two men that just tower over you, Satoru is taller by a few inches, his head isn’t far from your ceiling actually, spiked up white hair precariously close to brushing against the textured white paint above you. “Nanami was in the neighborhood.”

“Was he?” He nibbles one again, smirking over at Nanami, who casually takes a bite.

“I thought I’d see her, ask her on another date.” Satoru’s jaw tenses, and you wonder if this is the moment he’ll finally say something.

“Oh, another date? Second date, huh?” His tone is feigning ease, but it’s so clearly not at ease at all.

“Mmhmm, maybe this weekend?” He brushes a lock of your hair back from your bare shoulder, and you smile. “Lunch?”

“I can have lunch.” It’s not like Satoru is gonna-

“I’m taking her to lunch tomorrow.”

“You are?” He glares at you.

“Yes, I was coming to ask you to come to lunch with me, actually.”

“Were you… well, what about Sunday?” Nanami asks, and you smile brightly up at him.

“Sunday works for me.”

“Perfect. I’ll leave you to hang with your friend,” his tone hints he knows exactly what type of friend Satoru is, but he’s clearly unbothered, kissing your cheek and leaning down. “Text you later?”

“Absolutely.” You walk him out then, feeling vivid blue eyes glaring fucking daggers in your back. You pause, locking the door, hearing the silence in your home, aside from the whirring of the old air conditioner cooling the home the best it can in the heat, and Satoru’s sigh.

“He’s awfully friendly.” He mumbles, and you turn to him now, hands behind your back as you walk slowly, feet padding along your tile.

“He’s very nice, yes. But it was also nice of you to bring me this. Thank you, Satoru.” You say softly, smiling up now, a hand on his arm, just for him to tug you  against his chest. You gasp at it.

“He’s too comfortable here, don’t you think?” His whisper is low, as he leans down, an arm on either side pressing you into the counter now, as his hard thigh slips between your softer ones.

“You’ve only been here once, and you’re comfortable too,” his brows lower, you gasp as your heat presses on his hard thigh now, he senses how good it feels to you, clearly, one hand slipping up your spine. “Satoru…”

“God I want you so bad, don’t you know?” He murmurs, kissing you then, it’s a harsher kiss than you’re used to, the hand slipping under your thin silk top, making you shiver while you soak his thigh, your hands slipping up his chest. “Look so fucking beautiful.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask softly, pulling back now to look up at him, feeling how tense he is.

“I need a reason? Did he?”

“Of course you don’t need a reason, but what’s he got to do with anything? Who I go out with, what’s it matter?”

“What’s it matter!?” He can hardly believe your words, in no world did Satoru Gojo see anyone else, so fucking blinded by you. Was it not the same?

“We’re not together, are we?” You’re silently begging for him to say something, but instead he pulls back, heart racing under the palm that drops now.

“I don’t want to see anyone but you, to fuck anyone but you, isn’t this… isn’t this something you want? Just with me?” He’s cupping your face, kissing you again, hungry, desperate, making your lips swell with his kisses. “Me fucking your pretty pussy till you pass out?”

You whine out, how can you not do so when he’s slipping a hand down, over your breast, making your nipple taut against his warm, hard palm, that’s gripping and squishing your breast. “Mnh but…”

“Don’t you want me to bury my face against that perfect cunt?” He’s touching you there, you can hardly breathe, it’s all Satoru, making you dizzy.

“I didn’t say I… mnh!”

“So wet, for me? All me?” He’s making your panties soaking wet with his long fingers, pulling back with glossy lips to watch your pretty eyes roll back. “Is that all for me?”

“You’re acting…” he’s got you trembling, soaking the cotton panties now, pressing your thighs together. “Satoru stop.”

He does immediately, pulling back in confusion. “What’s wrong? Did I kiss too rough? I'm sorry I…”

“No, just,” you cross your arms, hugging yourself, looking away. “Does it always have to be sexual?”

Satoru stands there, his own vermillion lips swollen from kissing you, his breaths coming hectic as he stares down at you. “What do you mean, always sexual?”

“That's all we do. Did you come here to fuck me?”

He laughs harshly, a sound you haven’t heard from him then. “I came to see you, just like the last time, you’re the one who said ‘let’s fuck’.” His words smack you with reality.

You had.

To try to save your fucking feelings, but all you did was fall deeper, deeper into him, the abyss that’s Satoru Gojo, the man you want all the time, but not just sexually. You want him near you, next to you, waking up in the morning and making him breakfast, and not just for him to leave to his penthouse after.

You want way too much.

“I did say that, but then we did have sex. So was I wrong?” His jaw tenses, he slips two fingers under your chin then, forcing your gaze on him.

“Do you want to be with him?” You glare at his ridiculous words now.

“I never said that, but would it matter? We are just ‘friends’ hmm?” Your words are harsh, way too harsh for the sweet girl he knows, and he feels it, the anger rising inside of him, making him so furious at the thought of someone with you.

“So, you’re gonna what, go fuck him?”

“Is that who you think I am!?” He gives a nasty little smirk, it’s a cruel one, something you’ve never seen on his face.

“You had no problem sleeping with me, not knowing me.” You step back, and the moment it spills from his lips, he knows he’s wrong, but he’s so fucking furious, he’s blinded to any good fucking reason. The hurt written on your pretty face is enough to make him feel like getting swallowed whole.

“I trusted you, I felt comfortable with you, the connection I…” you trail off, not wanting to make a bigger fool of yourself. “It wasn’t just random. You really think that’s what it was? A random hot guy I said - huh, let me call him and fuck him?” He tilts his head now, brows lowering.

“Isn’t that what it was, you saw my stream and wanted me? Now you think I’m making it all sexual?” You gasp, teeth clenched, almost unable to breathe you’re so fucking furious.

“You’re trying to fuck me because you’re jealous, so yes, that is making it all sexual. Surprised your phone’s not filming.” You shove at his chest and he grips your wrists, leaning low.

“So what, you got all the expertise you needed? Gonna go apply it to someone now?” Satoru’s words are so hurtful you can’t take it, you feel your heart pounding in your ears as you look at blue eyes gone cold.

“Excuse me, you think I used you for experience!?” He raises a brow then, while your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you drag them from his grip.

“You asked me for experience, remember? Weren’t you the one who started all of this, made it sexual? Asked me to show you things?”

His words resonate through your head until it spins, you have to sit down you feel so fucking sick then. Was he never even interested in you? Was this all you who caused it, who pushed it, when he never wanted it? The thoughts swirl through your mind quicker and quicker, nauseating, you shake your head and blink back tears then, looking up at him.

“I should never have pushed myself on you,” he blinks snowy lashes then, lips parting. “No, I shouldn’t have, you’re right.”

“I didn’t mean it that-”

“I am sorry I did, I’m sorry I asked for that. I was so pathetic.” You barely hold back a cry, and Satoru’s frozen, you have it so wrong, don’t you know his dick literally doesn’t work for anyone!? Don’t you know you’re all he can fucking think of, constantly, every waking moment?

“You never pushed yourself, ever,” he leans down, arms on either side of your chair. “Look at me.”

You do just that, and your tears break him. “What?”

“I didn’t mean it like I didn’t want you, I did. I just meant you crossed the line to make it sexual, that’s not to say I didn’t want to, but you were a good girl.”

“Were. Being the key word. Now I’m what, some pornstar fucking booty call?” You’re shaking your head, swiping at your cheeks, thinking of Jenna’s words. “And it’s all my own doing.”

You’ve lost yourself.

“Baby you’re still a good girl, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re right, you never would have hit me up for it, would you have?” Satoru pauses then, hands gripping the arms of your chair so tightly his knuckles whiten.

“I never said that!”

“Why would you, it’s Hollywood, you can have anyone, I just inconvenienced you, I should have never tried to join your world.” You’re standing now, brushing past him, he grips your wrist, his own emotions rising - especially one - panic.

He can’t lose you.

“It’s not what I meant,” he brushes his hand across your cheek, sticky already with your tears, feeling your body tremble as he holds you closer. “I shouldn’t have said it that way, I was just upset.”

“It’s true, don’t take it back now.”

“You think I don’t want you!?” He’s gripping your upper arms, shaking you gently, you’re sniffling, shaking your head as he stares at you in disbelief. “How can you think I don’t?”

“Maybe you felt sorry for me.” Satoru laughs then, before fucking glaring down at you.

“That’s the last thing I fucking feel,” he leans down until his lips are just a breath away from yours. “I want you so badly, constantly, why do you think I just showed up to your work, asked you out, begged to come over?”

“To film things.” He blinks like he’s been slapped.

“You think that’s it?”

“Some fun maybe, I think I am the one who took this seriously, when I started it from the beginning.”

It all hits - you are the one who asked him for more, and now you’re upset it’s just sexual, when you knew. You always knew. You knew your feelings, you knew you couldn’t handle this, but it was all you could have of him, and you were selfish, so selfish. And so in love.

“I wanted you that moment I met you, did you forget our kiss?” He whispers softly, fingers brushing your hair back, making you tremble.

“It’s only sex?” You ask hoarsely, he falters then.

“I enjoy you much more than that.”

“As a friend?” Satoru can’t speak then, he just stands there, staring down at you, swiping more of those tears from your cheeks, your lip is trembling. “Satoru, I feel like I don’t know myself anymore.”

“What do you mean? You’re so uniquely yourself. Nerdy, cute, adorable,” he’s smiling with those plump lips, as if that would cheer you up, avoiding the blatant question you gave him. “You are like no one I know.”

“I’m trying so hard to please you, that I’m forgetting.” He blinks again, so clearly confused, not seeing the numerous ways you have been bending yourself, molding yourself to fit him. Maybe he doesn’t see the change, maybe he just doesn’t know, but Jenna was so right, she was absolutely correct.

You don’t remember who you are, trying to be everything for Satoru, and he can’t even tell you if it’s more than a friendship.

The hurt tears its way into your chest, it’s unfair of you to ask him, to demand anything more of him, it’s not fair. You did all this, caused all this, you can’t be mad at him for being him, a pornstar. You’ve let your fear of not being enough make you do things you never would, and it’s all starting to sink in, everything you’ve done with him, like it’s not even you anymore.

You let being so selfish for him change you.

You’re sobbing now, and Satoru’s unsure of what to do, he doesn’t know your inner turmoil, but he does know seeing you cry makes him deeply emotional, it breaks his heart to see you hurt. He hugs you closely, as you cry against his suit jacket, sniffling and shaking, while he rubs a hand up and down your back.

“What is it? Is it what I said? I didn’t mean it that way, I’m sorry… I just…” You shake your head, sniffling and leaning back, looking up at a face you’ve fallen so deeply in love with.

“I’m losing myself.” You’re breaking down again, this time leaning back. “What you said was right.”

“It wasn’t, it was mean and… I’m sorry, please.” He feels his own emotions choking him, throat closing up as he struggles to take a breath, feeling the suffocation of his own mistake.

“I’ve acted that way.” He shakes his head, blinking back his own tears as you cover your face, breaking down right in front of him. “The fuck have I been doing, I called you.”

“I’m glad you called me-”

“I asked you.”

“I wanted you too. I was so fucking-”

“I fell in love like a fucking idiot, when you were honest from the beginning who you are.” Satoru pauses then, heart hammering as you turn away, but not before he glimpses how puffy your cheeks have gotten from your tears.

“You what?” He whispers, and you shake your head, swiping at your tears, shoulders shaking with the wracking sobs.

“I shouldn’t have tried to join your world, and then I was so dumb I got jealous,” he touches your shoulder feeling you tense.

“Jealous, you?” You laugh through your tears, truly fucking losing it, as you nod, looking back at him, and he sees the reddened eyes, the sticky drying tears, you bit your lip so hard it’s tearing the skin.

“Yes, very. I’m selfish and so dumb. It’s your career. I promised never to judge it either, and for what, you to judge me.” The anger sets back in, throwing his hand off and turning now. “You need to go.”

“I need to go!?” You nod, sniffling as you bite down harder, the motion jerky when he pulls you against him. “No, I am not leaving you like this.”

“I won’t be your pornstar anymore,” your words strike their chord, they hit him right in the stomach, as he barely processes your earlier words in the haze you have him in. “That’s all you want.”

“It’s not! You wanted that!”

“No, I just wanted to be enough.” At your last broken word, you can hardly face him, he tugs you against him and you’re stiff, unmoving.

“You’re more than enough for anyone,” his soft words end you, the sweet Satoru you met that night is there, but he’s hurt you so badly now, the sinking realization that you confessed your love and he hasn’t even acknowledged it. He’s stroking your back gently, letting you cry against him. “We never have to shoot, I told you that.”

“But you’ll fuck other women?” Your words are harsher than he’s used to from your sweet lips, he buries his face in your neck, swallowing.

“I don’t want anyone else, haven’t I made it clear?” He’s hoarse, his own tears falling along your neck.

“But you’ll go back to it, you’ll have to.” You grip the shirt he’s wearing, crumbling the expensive material. He swallows, sighing then.

“I won’t want them.”

“But you’ll have to.”

“It’s my career,” he pulls back, sighing as he watches your broken face. “You seemed to enjoy it, what’s changed so much?”

“I didn’t enjoy it, I enjoyed you. Now I don’t know what I think of myself.” You’re blinking the rapid tears, shaking your head again, as if to make them stop.

He never loved you, did he?

“Maybe you should be an actor, you made me believe there was more,” Satoru scowls at you now, tugging you against his chest, cupping your face with his other hand tightly. “Stop.”

“I do care so much, god you’re all I want. I literally can’t even fuck anyone else.”

“So your dick cares for me?”

“That’s not what I said! You wanted all of this, how are you going to be mad at me for giving it to you!?” You laugh again, the sound so hollow, as Satoru feels his heart breaking.

“I can’t just fuck you. Clearly. And I knew it, I knew I needed feelings, I knew I’d fall - I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not!”

“I am. Satoru, I can never do this again, it’s breaking me apart,” you hold your stomach, as his blue eyes drip with tears, and you want nothing more than to be in his arms. “I can’t just have sex with you.”

“I don’t want anyone else, how fucking clear can I make it!?” You smack the hands that try to brush your tears, earning his glare, blue eyes a storming blue, so vivid it’s painful to look at. “I want you, I didn’t mean what I said. You’re just done with this because of some words?”

“I’m done because I can’t take this pain anymore.”

“Pain?” You take several breaths, hands shaking as you try and fail to stop the onslaught of tears. “What pain? I’ve done nothing but make you cum, like no one ever fucking will.”

“It’s sexual, see? Is that all shit is to you!? I’m not just a body.”

“It’s not just your body-”

“It seems that way. No, I won’t fuck Nanami, okay? If that’s your very weird fucking concern, considering after I swallowed your spit you did a gang bang, and after we fucked you fingered a girl on cam.” Satoru scowls deeper at you, as you finally let it all out, everything you’ve acted fine with.

“That’s my job! You fucking knew that!”

“I thought I meant something.” He pulls you by your wrists again, you jerk them out of his hold, hyperventilating.

“Calm down, fuck I didn’t mean it.”

“Your smirk… the way you… no, you meant it. You think that’s who I am? Then you never fucking knew me!”

“I don’t know you!?”

“You know my body, that’s not enough.” He’s kissing you again, and for a moment you falter, as he’s overtaking your lips.

“I want more than your body,” his words fall flat, you can’t believe him anymore, not after what he accused you of. “I want more. I enjoy you, fuck why can’t I keep enjoying you? Why are you overthinking everything!”

“Mmm, no.” You pull back again, shoving at his chest, he’s crying right with you, and you want to stop this, let him do anything he wants, but it hurts too fucking much, nothing should hurt this much. “I can’t have pieces of you.”

“I’m right here, use me, all of me.” He’s trying again to kiss you, but you’re pulling back, making him glare. “Now you’re done with whatever experiment you were fucking doing?”

You gasp. “I should ask you that!” You smack at his hand, making him grip your wrist again, both of your chests heaving. “Turning the nerdy good girl into a pornstar? That some twisted 90s rom com!?”

“The fuck, I didn’t make you do shit, it’s been your choice!”

“I regret it.”

The words are enough to make him step back, his eyes going cold. “What?”

“I regret filming it.” You do, and you hate that you do. You see him swallow, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his own hands shaking. “I don’t regret you, I don’t regret the moments, aside from me pushing myself on you, for that I am sorry, but I do feel horrible about myself now.”

“I gave you the choice, you hit share.”

“To please you. To make you need me, want me, to keep you. Selfish, stupid,” you shake your head again, chest tight as you rub it, blood pressure through the fucking roof as it all comes out, everything you kept inside. “I don’t blame you, you always asked permission, consent, all of it. This is on me.”

“So we never do it again, I don’t need it to fuck you, I don’t care if you film it again-”

“It’s your career.”

“I want you.” The words should feel good, the way he cups your face and looks at you, it should mean more, but you’re far too deep in your feelings to be okay with him just wanting you.

You forgot who you were.

“This isn’t me,” you say softly, cupping his face then. He shuts his eyes, snowy lashes dripping with tears. “I can’t be this anymore, it’s not me.”

“People change, why regret what you enjoy? Why regret doing something that made you-”

“I feel awful that I did it.”

“Shit…” He takes a breath, feeling responsible for your broken words, as you stroke his cheek, trembling in front of him.

“You didn’t do it, it’s not your fault. I’m disappointed in myself, I should have known I couldn’t handle it all. You with other women,” you look down, hand falling. “It was selfish.”

Satoru doesn’t know what to say, what to do besides kiss your forehead, holding you close to him. “I feel like you’re fucking ending things.”

“I am.” He freezes now.

“We don’t have to film!?”

“I can’t. I can’t do this. It’s not fair to either of us,” he says your name, quietly, earning you looking at him as you step back. “I will never regret what we did, I just regret trying to make myself something I wasn’t.”

“Don’t do this, don’t end a good thing? For what?” He’s shaking your shoulders, as if trying to drag some sense into you.

“I caused it all.”

“You didn’t, I’m sorry I-”

“I need to be alone.”

Your next words break him, he stares at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“I need to be alone. I’m sorry.” You walk to the door, he is behind you then, hand on yours over that knob, hard body behind you, his other arm wrapping around your waist now. “Satoru…”

“Don’t kick me out of your life,” he’s pleading, he feels so pathetic then, standing behind you and resting his head on the cool door over your head, taking a breath. “I don’t want this to stop, to end. I wanted you from the moment I saw you at that damn party.”

“But now I’m not that girl,” you’re shaking, as his hand tightens over yours. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You’re still her, what do you mean!?”

He doesn’t understand.

“I am glad I met you, Satoru Gojo. I have never met anyone like you, and I probably never will.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Thank you for being so thoughtful, so caring,” you’re choking on your sobs, looking behind your shoulder up at him as he cups your face. “Thank you for being so many of my firsts.”

“Don’t thank me,” his words are harsh, as he kisses you again, and you fall into them so sweetly, whining into his lips. “Don’t push me away.”

“I have to find myself again, and I can’t like this.”

“I just don’t understand.”

“I know.” It’s quiet, as he kisses you again, letting you go and shaking his head. “I’m sorry for all of this.”

He says nothing else, letting you turn the knob, rushing out without another word, as you turn and rest your back against the door, sliding down and collapsing on the fucking floor, devastated. It’s like your heart is ripped into pieces, sending the man you love away, when he fucking begged to stay.

You feel horrible, his crying eyes and the way he asked you not to, but how the fuck can you keep going like this!? Even then, he didn’t bring up being more, he didn’t say ‘I love you too’ as if wanting you physically was enough. But for him, that’s what this was, it was what you brought up, so enamored by your feelings, you thought you could have him sexually and it would be enough.

It would never be enough for you.

Curled into a ball on the floor, you don't move for hours, the sun setting through the blinds and casting its shadows across the floor as you hold your stomach and just sob. It's late when you finally pull yourself up, seeing the numerous calls from him, over and over, but you don't call him back, you can't anymore. Instead, you call your friend who's also called you a good five times.

“Jenna?”

“Baby what's wrong!?”

“Can you come over?”

*****

Jenna holds you that night as you keep apologizing, you were an awful fucking friend, damn near kicking her out in some hopes that she was so wrong, for Satoru to prove her right - only worse. Never once did Jenna herself think he would say what you sob to her then, she thought Satoru was a good person, just an industry standard, but never spiteful.

“Shit baby,” she murmurs, as you hiccup, hugging her tightly as you lay on your couch, take out and wine along your living room table. “I wish I wasn’t right.”

“He accused me of… wanting to use him!? I never… Jenna I never…”

“Shh.” She’s trying to calm you down, but you’re so fucking devastated, every time the phone rings and you want to answer it, she holds you tighter. “You can’t just give in and be treated like that.”

“I was slutty, going to him.”

“You were curious about your feelings.”

“I… yes…” You rub tissues on your sore nose, sipping your cheap wine and sighing, looking at your beautiful friend. “I loved him when I met him, Jenna.”

“I know,” she sips her own wine, frowning. “I wish I warned you more.”

“You didn’t know I would fall like this. It’s all my own doing.”

“Is it? He knew you were innocent.” You shake your head, sighing and leaning back against the couch, resting a hand on her thigh now.

“I was a bitch to you.”

“You were just hurt, fucked up on him. I forgive you.” She takes your hand, and tugs you into another hug. “He’s so good I almost fell fucking him.”

“Jenna!” You glare playfully, then laugh, for the first time since you had to send him away. She shrugs.

“It’s his pussy eating skills.”

“Jenna it’s so not that.”

“They gaslight you.” You playfully shove her then, laughing and standing up, grabbing both glasses.

“Will you stay tonight? Have more wine?”

“You know I will.” You smile and lean down, pecking a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t fall in love with another pornstar.”

“I’ve always loved one.” You tease, something feels relieving, despite the love in your fucking heart, to release all those feelings, to speak them out loud. “I’ll make us some popcorn on the stove.”

“I’ll find a movie!” As you walk out to the kitchen, your phone rings, Jenna fuck-you buttons it, glaring at the picture of Satoru.

She cannot stand that he hurt her best friend like that, and she’s not gonna be very fucking nice if she sees him again.

It keeps ringing, over and over, when she finally picks it up, walking out to your balcony. “Stop calling her,” Jenna’s voice is on the phone, Satoru laughs harshly, after being so excited to speak to you, it’s your protector. “I’m serious.”

“She’s a grown woman, not a little girl.” He says, and she scoffs.

“She sure is, but guess what? She was innocent, Satoru, innocent before you got her into this fucking world.”

“It was her decision!”

“Because she’s in love with you, fucking idiot!”

“She’s…” He trails off, he could swear at this point he imagined that confession in the middle of the argument, the ‘break up’. Where you broke his fucking heart in ways he didn’t know it could be.

“She did it to please you, she said she’d lose herself to be anything for you.” Jenna’s furious, quiet words break Satoru down. “You’re the experienced one, she was damn near a virgin.”

“She chose-”

“You shouldn’t have offered. You shouldn’t have changed her, she was perfect the way she was! Now she hates herself.”

“Jenna, I…”

She takes a breath, sighing. “I’m being too harsh, I’m sorry, okay? But as someone in this industry, why would you get a sweet, innocent girl into it? If you cared, you’d protect her, like I do.”

Satoru lets it all hit, slowly, her furious yet emotional words, a girl that clearly loves you, cares for you, and she was right. She was so right.

“Fuck…” Is all he can manage, as his mind whirls to a time when he was not too different from you.

He’d been a nerdy boy, even though his looks carried him far, he wasn’t very experienced, not until he fell in love with a girl in her early thirties, while he was in college. He’d pursued her, he’d begged for her, when he found she was a pornstar? He lost his virginity on set. It had been by far the most popular video there even had been at the time, it went viral.

That’s when they became the power couple.

But every time he saw her with anyone, it broke his fucking heart, he couldn’t stand seeing her on shoots, even when she’d coo at him that he was her favorite, even when he lived with her. He wondered if she liked other men better, he made sure to become perfect, the best there was, and soon she told him she didn’t recognize him any longer.

He says soon, but it was a four year relationship. One where they fought and fucked all the time, one where she was tired of the lifestyle and he was young and brand new. He let the fame get to his head, and she ultimately broke down and apologized for bringing him into this world, but he laughed, brushing it off.

He was happy she did, so happy.

His life was perfect, full of money and beautiful women.

Right?

“I told her you were a good person,” Jenna’s words over the phone bring his attention to the present, as he sinks into self loathing. “I feel I was wrong.”

“You’re not wrong, okay? I didn’t… I didn’t realize.” She sighs again, a long pause as he sits there, feeling the emotions catch in his throat.

“You’re not good for her, Gojo.”

Her words should make him fucking furious, but he’s not, he’s just so very sad now. She was right about it all, he was horrible for you, he made you not recognize yourself, regret your actions. Satoru never grew to regret his actions with his first, even though he was so enamored with the lifestyle at the time, perhaps he’s never fully digested it all.

He thought you’d love it, the attention, the money, that you’d feel so sexy and confident, that the two of you could be that couple. That he could have the best of both his worlds, keep his career and have the girl he desires more than anything right by his side through it all.

He was fucking selfish.

The girl that was in that damn party, nervous and giggling, fiddling with her long sleeves and blushing as he teased her? The girl who took a shotgun from him and got high from that, nervous as she kissed him? The girl who trusted him to show her things, who allowed him to do filthy fucking things without question, eager and open to anything he suggested.

The girl you were, who he changed unintentionally, would have never filmed any shoots of herself, wouldn’t have shown her body, no she just wasn’t that girl, and that was what drew him to you. His hands tighten on the phone as her words ring too fucking true, as they read him inside out.

“I didn’t mean to, Jenna. I really didn’t mean to.” His words seem to resonate with her.

“You saw it as some fun, I get it okay, but she’s not the girl you ‘have fun with’ she’s the one baking you cookies and taking care of you when you’re sick. She’s the shy one, who you have to drag to a damn party, the sweet one who makes sure you get home safe when you’re shitfaced. She’s a good girl, and now she’s devastated and stuck in her bed, feeling horrible.”

“Then let me talk to her-”

“She can’t get over this if you keep on.”

“Get over me?”

“She’s broken-hearted. I’ve never seen her in love like this, even with her ex it wasn’t even close, whatever you did, I need her to snap out of it, before she can’t get past this.”

“Jenna, I didn’t know she felt that way.”

“You don’t know a lot of things. Just stop calling her, I will help her.”

“Jenna-” She hangs up, and his next calls are sent immediately to voicemail, until he curses, throwing his fucking phone, then sobbing into his pillow that night, at the ultimate realization of what he’s done.

He changed you, the parts he fell for, so selfish he didn’t even notice a single sign that you did it all for him. And now he was supposed to just let you go?

How can he even move on without you?

*****

“Shut the blinds, ugh.” You cover your face with a comforter three weeks later, as Jenna is annoyingly there again, she comes over every day as you’ve taken two weeks off work as of the other day to rot in your bed.

“This is your vacation!? The fuck, get up.” She’s yanking the covers as you scowl at her, covered in sticky tears and hair all matted up. “You look like shit.”

“Who is there to look good for now? Let me wallow.” You yank the covers back until Jenna has dragged your ass off the bed, you hit the carpet and wince. “Jenna!”

“No, you’re taking a fucking shower. You are not letting him destroy you like this. Now.” She’s picking you up, you sigh then, just hugging her. “You stink.”

“Sorry,” you’re crying, it’s all you do. Cry and cry and cry over him. Over the man you love that you sent away, you could at least have him in your fucking bed, but no, this is all you have. “Why do you deal with me?”

“Because we’ve been through it all, you’ve dealt with how many of my manic fucking episodes?” You sigh, smiling through your tears.

“Don’t deserve you.”

“You do, and you deserve to move the fuck on. This shit happens, okay? We get up, get looking hot, and go out.”

“I can’t go out, I can’t have fun, I feel no joy without him.” The words are hard to get out of your throat, they’re the truth, but it’s a truth that’s hard to admit.

Without Satoru it was like there was no light in your life, sure Jenna was amazing, and sure you had people in your life you cared for, but Satoru haunts your every fucking though, dream, waking moment. If it was just sex, if it was just a fling, why are the dreams not just that? For every wet dream there were five of just holding his hand on a fucking beach somewhere.

You woke up with one of him holding you yesterday, only to be smacked with the realization that he will never again, touching the cold pillow and wrinkled sheets from your tossing and turning. You slept over and over, dreaming of him again, when he’s a phone call away, it was pure torture, a cruel fucking joke, that you fell in love with Satoru Gojo.

So close yet so impossibly far.

“What about the hottie from work? He keeps asking you out, and he’s fine as hell. Why not try?” You shake your head, sitting on your bed and sighing as she starts rummaging through your wardrobe. “Satoru isn’t the only man, baby.”

“He is the only one for me. Fuck was I too harsh to him-”

“No, he was a dick. You stood up for yourself like a good girl.”

“Don’t hit my praise kink, Jenna, I have a thing for pornstars,” she sticks out her tongue at you, grinning as you finally laugh a little, sniffling. “Nanami is sweet, and handsome, but I think he may want something serious. I don’t think I could give it to him.”

“You could if you tried to let this go. I know you fell, but he’s not going to change, so what good is any of it? Do you have anything slutty?”

“No, not really.” You stand up, going to the mirror and wincing. “I look like shit.”

“You really do.”

“Jenna!”

“Sorry,” she’s so not sorry, frowning as she digs up a lacy ass top, which is just lingerie. “Ooh this!”

“That’s not clothing, Jenna.”

“Sure is, bitch. I know you have some cute skirts…”

“Jenna I’m not gonna be any fucking fun. I’m too depressed.” You start brushing the rats' nest on your head, wincing as the memory hits.

Satoru brushing your hair, after the first time you’d come over, so sweet and caring as he ran it through, as he pulled you against him and smiled. The brush wavers in your hand, the ache in your chest growing again until you almost couldn’t breathe. You wonder if he feels anything close, if he ever did, or were you just something new for him to try?

His mean words melt with his sweet ones.

Done with your experiment?

Baby you are a star, already.

Gonna use it on someone else?

Best I’ve ever had.

You hate him for it, not for the accusations but for the fact that it showed he never knew you, and you thought Satoru truly just got you. But maybe the two of you never got to know each other, maybe it was something physical, some intense chemistry that you confused…

How can that be?

How can that be when what you miss most isn’t his body, isn’t the orgasms or pleasure, but the touches, the cuddles, the sweet smiles, the quiet moments in between where it felt perfect? No, you can’t explain it away, as easy as it would make it, this mix of love, longing, and hatred, is eating you alive, palpable and real as the physical manifestation of Satoru himself.

You’d always love him. But do you love you anymore?

“There’s a DJ I know at the EDM club… let’s go out and party babe, let’s let go and get free drinks and dance!” She’s yanking out a skirt that’s too tight on your waist and rides up your ass now. “This one!”

“An EDM club?” You sigh, shaking your head, but she’s got her mind set on it, shoving you to the bathroom now.

“Go shower, and scrub that hair twice, dear god.”

“Jenna…”

“No, you’re getting the fuck out tonight. Now.”

“Fine.”

You wish you weren’t just crying in the fucking shower, sitting there and hugging your knees, just missing him.

******

Satoru’s dancing in the middle of the EDM club that night, but it’s more physical, more going through the fucking motions, as the sounds reverberate, and women are giggling, dancing on him. He tries to have fun, to remember who he was before you, it’s been three weeks since your friend begged him not to call, and you’ve not reached out one time since.

He stalked your socials, not a single post, like you’ve ghosted everyone, not that you had much anyway, just a few pictures of your baking or cooking and those few blurry selfies. The selfies that make him ache, that make him miss you as he looks at them over and over.

Satoru took down both of your videos, he doesn’t feel right keeping them up after you said you regretted them, that made him feel so fucking horrible. You said it wasn’t his fault, but how can he not feel responsible for bringing it up in the first place? How can he not let your friend’s words sink in deep?

You were innocent, and instead of cherishing that, he saw the opportunity to make bank with you, to enjoy the only woman he wanted and keep his career, to just win and win and win. At the cost of you, of your self worth clearly, and your self esteem, all for what. For others to see you, what he wanted for himself, the thoughts made him fucking sick.

What is money, what are hollow comments, what is any of this when your eyes were full of tears, when he has to jerk it to the fucking memory of you, when he can’t make it to a shoot and just stares at your pictures. When he watches the videos of you two and instead of getting excited feels overwhelming guilt? You were a grown woman, but you were innocent, and he corrupted it, unintentional as it was.

He still was responsible.

He wants to fucking apologize, he wants to beg you to come back, he knows he’s horrible for you, he barely knows himself at twenty eight, and you younger than him seem to at least remember who you are. He missed all the signs of you changing to please him, but it all started falling together these past weeks of being alone, of avoiding his job, of avoiding everything.

He can’t avoid it forever, and he shouldn’t. You were gone.

He backs off the girl dancing on him now, tapping her shoulder. “I need a drink, sweets.”

“Sure Gojo!” She grins and dances with the other girl who was grinding on him, as he finds Suguru leaning against the bar, having a drink, along with a few other of the usual stars, including smirking Toji and Sukuna, who he can’t deal with right now.

“Make it a double,” Satoru murmurs to the bartender, who slips him her number with a little wink, he tips her well and smiles.

Did he really enjoy this?

He leans back, freezing then, when he thinks his fucking eyes are playing tricks on him - it can’t be.

You’re feeling the energy pulsing through every inch of your body, hands touching you everywhere, losing yourself in the strobing lights, the sweat dripping as you jump up and down, laughing again for the first time in so long. Jenna’s dancing with you, then other girls and guys, as the beat kicks up, and everyone throws their hands up in the air.

A girl kisses you, then Jenna, making you blush, covering your mouth as Jenna grins at you. “You’re so cute!”

“Hush!” You shove at her playfully as you both shout over the loud noise filling the intense room, internally feeling guilty for enjoying one night without him, without the man that has your whole fucking heart.

But it does feel good, to shut your eyes and feel blissful nothingness, the drinks simmering through your veins until you’re dizzy. You feel a man’s hands on you, gently pushing them off with a smile, thanking god you wore your contacts because you fear for your glasses with the amount of jumping people. You lift your arms up, back to Jenna again, as you two lose yourselves.

Satoru sees you, skin glistening with sweat in the middle of the dancefloor, jumping up and down with a grin on your face as Jenna jumps with you, bodies all surrounding you, making him glare as he sips his drink. He’s going through fucking torture without you, and you look so happy, so free.

Was he truly horrible for you?

Was he selfless enough to stay away?

“Satoru, maybe try to talk to her?” Suguru says in his ear, loudly over the blaring electronic music that has hundreds bouncing together, kissing on each other, touching  each other.

Satoru used to eat this up, all the music and energy, kissing women and having them feel all over him, especially when he was a little younger and partook in the party drugs, as many of them were on. But even now, he should enjoy it, the looks women give him, the way they touch his body, how they all dance all over him, he should enjoy the feeling.

He enjoys nothing, now, nothing but the memory of you gives him, what it leaves him with, the feel of you in his arms, against his skin, god the night he danced with you and you were so nervous. Clearly still awkward, Jenna is guiding your moves, when Satoru watches several men touching you, trying to rub and dance on you - it was normal in an EDM club, it’s what you did.

But you back off them, with a little polite smile, back to Jenna in moments, when your eyes finally catch his, and you stop moving like you were, your body slows, your eyes get fucking sad, he can see it clear as day. You walk away, and he curses softly, following you around until he catches sight of you walking in the bathroom, and he follows you right in.

“It’s a girls bathroom, Satoru.” You say then, splashing water on your face, when he comes right behind you, turning you quickly, the water drips down your face as you breasts heave up and down in an outfit so slutty he’s sure it’s not yours. “What do you want?”

“What do I want!? What do I want?” He’s blinking back his emotions now, laughing and shaking his head, cupping your face with his huge hands as the DJ shifts to another song, the bass vibrating your bodies, while your breaths come quicker and quicker.

You can hardly stand it, seeing him again, it’s like nothing even exists but him, but your love for him, a love you know ruins you, changes you for the worst. You rotted away for weeks and for one moment had fun, one moment thought you could let some of the pain go, to realize what this was.

But the moment you see his desperate, hungry eyes, taste the liquor on his breath as he leans down, you’re hopelessly lost. You swallow nervously, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, trying to gather yourself, the shots running through your body along with the headiness from the dancing, all mixing with him. With Satoru Gojo, whose hands feel far too good on your skin.

“I want you back, god I’ll fucking do anything,” he whispers, desperate and needy when you open your eyes again, two tears slipping from their corners. “I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Don’t say that, god…” You take a shaky breath, pulling back, when he presses you against the black and gold counter of the fancy bathroom, his thigh right between yours, feeling your heat. Your hips roll before you can stop yourself, moaning softly as he sighs, his hand slipping down your body slowly.

“Anything to feel you again, please. Fuck I miss you,” you bite your lower lip, shaking your head. “I do, god I do.”

“Satoru…”

“I need you. I need you.” He’s kissing you, messy and desperate, licking the gloss and sweat off your lips with his long tongue, while pressing that thigh up. “Look too good to be out there, dressing this slutty?”

“Fuck you,” he moans, never expecting those words from your sweet lips, but all they do is make him needier, when you yank him by his dress shirt, hand crumpling the material. “I hate you.”

“You hate me, huh?” His whisper infuriates you, you’re crying as you nod, arching your hips up again.

“For making me fall for you, yes. I hate you, Satoru.” You pull back, turning away, only for him to drag you against his chest, making you look at your own reflection, dilated eyes, messy hair, your tits nearly falling out of your bustier.

“I could never hate you, sweetheart,” he grips a breast, yanking it out of your top then, making you whine, as your head falls back. “Look at your pretty fucking face.”

“No.” He grips your chin, forcing you to stare at him towering over you, his arms wrapping your body, one hand trailing down your nipple, tweaking it and making you whine out, rolling your hips. “Hate it.”

“You hate this?” You nod, sniffling back those tears, but your body responds to him violently, your cunt drenched when he brushes you over your panties, moaning as he fingers the slick, sticky cum. “Pretty pussy soaked, isn’t she?”

“From… dancing…” He scowls now, and you smile.

Good.

He changed you, the old you would never fucking say you hate him when you’re in love, the old you wouldn’t smirk at his anger. No, you were so sweet, so needy and pathetic for him, and you can’t let yourself slip again, not when you’re still not sure you’ve found yourself. Because you changed, irrevocably the moment you met Satoru Gojo.

“I know you’re lying, you know I’m the only man to ever make you cum,” you glare, but it’s cut off when he bends low, burying his head against your neck as he bends at the waist, your heels giving just enough height for him to slip your panties to the side. “Hold them.”

“No.”

“Hold. Them. To. The. Side.” His whisper almost ends you, the commanding tone you want to submit to.

“No.”

“Now.” He orders, in the only way he can, and you feel him slipping his fingers up and down an already messy cunt, tit slid out of your top, the other threatening to right in this club fucking bathroom, as his blue eyes look at yours int he mirror. “Now.”

“Fuck it,” you scowl as he smirks, doing just that, as the music reverberates and you bend down, pulling your lacy panties to the side, screaming out unwillingly when two fingers bury themselves. “Fuck!”

“Nasty mouth, bratty attitude, where’s my sweet, submissive girl huh?” He smirks as he slips those fingers deeper, pressing your spot with wicked precision, pressing that spongy spot as his other hand grips your breast rough in his huge grip. “Wanna squirt for me again, just me?”

“No, no I - mnh! There, shit, there,” your eyes roll back as his other hand wraps your throat, his desperate whines loud in your ear mixing with the loud squelching of your hungry cunt as he fucks you with his fingers. “Hate you.”

“Yeah, I know baby,” he’s so ready to watch you again, watch you fall apart, as he curls that spot you need, over and over, feels your gummy walls gripping and pulsing his finger with the beat of the goddamn music, watching your glittery skin and lips and eyes in the fucking mirror. “I’ll never hate you.”

“Shh,” you can’t take it, his fingers, his glistening eyes, those pouty lips parted while he moves his hand up and down inside your cunt until you’re about to cum, so intense again. “Stop, too much I’m gonna-”

“I feel it, let go, make a mess f’me, just me huh?” You can’t stop it then, his fingers fucking you just so, you feel all that pressure deep in your tummy, about to explode, making you scream out into his lips as he captures them, hand squeezing your throat as all the pressure builds.

He moans against your lips, messy kisses, saliva just dripping as he hits that spot that makes all the pressure release, and you feel yourself squirting all down his fingers, down your thighs, down the bathroom fucking tile. You scream out at it, as he makes more come out, torturing you as he pulls back and moans, looking at your face with those fucking eyes of his.

“That’s it, squirt everywhere, slutty pussy only does it f’me, say it,” you shake your head, whining and shaking as the mess gushes all over him, and he’s rock hard and thick against the small of your back, whining. “God I miss you, I need you, wanna drink you.”

“No, you can’t…” You’re drunk off him, lost in him, as he slips his fingers away from the mess you made, shoving them in your mouth, and you eagerly suck them up and down, looking at his reflection in the mirror with dilated eyes.

You’ll always want him.

You’re ready to fuck him then and there, ready to forget anything, to feel his cock stretch you out sure, but also to kiss him, to feel his energy, to feel so beautiful under him, around him. You’re shaking, thighs trembling and sticky when he turns you, lifting you and slipping his hands up your messy, sticky thighs, glistening and drenched all the way to your ankles.

“Look at your mess, sweetheart,” he taunts, bending down and licking a thigh desperately, moaning as he looks up at you, he’s too much, fuck he’s too much. “Missed your taste, can’t get it outta my fucking mind.”

“Satoru, please…” You don’t know what you’re asking, hands in his silvery locks, the texture you missed, as he presses hungry licks of his pink tongue on your skin.

“Didn’t miss me, right? Don’t want me now? Hate me?” He’s glaring, stopping his kisses to cup your face, his chin glistening from the arousal that he got pouring from your cunt, eyes locked with yours. “Do you hate me?”

“No,” you’re crying, chest heaving now. “I love you, and that is enough fucking torture.” He pauses, faltering then, as he brushes tears from your cheeks.

“Did you ever think that I-” the door opens, and the two of you quickly celebrate, you adjust yourself, thanking god the drunk girls don’t notice your undress, when you realize what you’ve done.

Let him have you a literal mess, let everything you’ve tried to get over for weeks get destroyed with his lips, his fingers. You confessed again, so pathetic, you can’t even face him, not when he is waiting for you out of the bathroom, you dart off, gripping your clutch tightly and hearing your name ring in your ears, along with the music and the sounds of cheers filling them.

He wants you, sure, but would he ever love you?

You quickly grab Jenna, desperate to run away, to try to compose yourself, how can you stand strong when all it takes is a look from his eyes and you’re ready to give him anything he wants again? It’s toxic, and you fucking know it, what he does to your body, your brain, your heart.

Has he done shoots?

Will he do them?

Why do you care when you’re not his!?

Will he be inside someone else, and you could have kept him if you went along with it all? The thoughts race as you and Jenna run out of the club, and you feel those blue eyes on you from somewhere in the dark club through the strobe lights making you dizzy. You can fucking feel Satoru, the man responsible for your soaked, sticky panties and thighs.

You could never hate him, but who are you without him anymore? It’s like you can’t recognize yourself, so consumed from his touches, from his empty words - miss you - what did he miss? Was it you, or your body? What did he think of the love confessions you were dumb enough to spill twice now?

“Baby you okay?” Jenna asks, as you two climb in the back of the ride, and you shake your head, bursting into tears.

She holds you, so confused, because you don’t say what happened.

You’ll never be okay without him, will you?

*****

Satoru can still feel it, you squirting and gushing in that fucking room, clinging to the memory he tries a month later to get hard on set, how long could he put it off, it’s been almost two months since that fight now. He hasn’t heard your voice since that night, he finally stopped calling again, realizing you were done with him, realizing the amount of times he fucked this all up.

He never told you how he felt, how could you know?

He doesn’t even know how to describe it, the void in his chest as he thinks of you, as he misses you, knowing you live an hour away, he keeps thinking of just showing up, telling you. That he’s never felt this way, that he’s never felt the need, the hunger, the all consuming desire for you as a human being, your laugh, your kisses, your grin.

Your silly jokes, the innocent way you moved against him, so shy at first, to the wildness of that night out, how you arched against him, how you said you hated him, how you said you loved him. And he almost said it back, he just needed one more moment to fucking say it, the words he hasn’t said since his ex fucked his brain up, made him so cold.

But he feels more for you in a short time than he ever did her.

He fell for you, just like you did, but he was so fucking stupid, all he could do was explain it away, to keep his lifestyle, his career- and what did any of it matter without you? What was anything without you in his life now, a life he thought was beautiful, was just a hollow shell since he met you.

Parties, drugs, women all over him, fame and money, what the fuck was a yacht party with beautiful women, when the girl he loves hates him? What was a trip to some rich fucker’s island, when the girl he loves is back in LA? Were you moved on, did you find a guy to treat you right, better than he had?

One that doesn’t make you cry?

“Ready, Gojo?” His pretty costar smiles at him, and he clears his throat, nodding with a fake smile.

Were all his smiles fake before you?

Was everything just a stage, waiting for you to enter his life, to change everything?

You changed so much for him, but he never changed for you.

Satoru’s flexing for the cameras, it’s what he did. You two were done before you ever became anything, weren’t you? You have not once reached out, why should he feel bad, there’s nothing there. He has to move on, like you apparently have, he has to have his career back, and maybe now he could, if he could just ignore the stabbing, gnawing ache in his soul.

Satoru’s slipping his fingers down her spine, smacking her ass and watching handprints form, while she’s whining and arching up for more, her hair falling back behind her shoulder blades. Satoru tries to remember that he once enjoyed this career, that he enjoys pleasing women. He tries to remember you want nothing to do with him anymore, that you ‘hate him’.

But your hate is sweeter than anything.

He could almost do it.

Her hair is the same as yours, as he pulls it gently, her ass arched up for him so pretty. Satoru could almost pretend it’s you, with that condom on, maybe he could shut his eyes and remember you instead. Maybe he could go through it, you two are done, you’ve made it so clear you want nothing to do with him now, and he couldn’t blame you for it.

He could almost slip his cock into her, he thinks, while he fingers her, feels how wet she is. He could almost imagine you, squirting and gushing and whining as he felt your tight, perfect cunt. He shuts his eyes, snowy lashes casting shadows along his high cheekbones, as she moans, this moan that’s not even close to the sounds you make.

He could almost do this, he’s going to have to move on, right?

“I need a career change.” He says suddenly, fingers inside his costar stilling, the set goes quiet. “Shit… um, sorry.”

He’s walking off, wiping his hands off when his manager comes to him.

“Satoru… what the fuck?”

“I can’t do this anymore.” He murmurs, remembering you in that club bathroom, the way you felt in his arms, the anger you held, your pretty little face, the way your lashes fluttered shut. The way you kissed him, how he’d licked that arousal off your thighs, but moreso your words.

You loved him.

And it all finally sinks in - he has no clue if you’ll ever even fucking talk to him again, he has no clue if you really hate him, but he knows he can’t do this life like this any longer. He can’t be with someone else in a world where you fucking exist - no, It was only you.

“I need a change of career.”

This chapter hurt my fucking feelings, my god they're dumb esp Satoru - BUT promise next chap will be a little less angsty <3

Taglist 1 - @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay @iluvjjkmennn @nutellajade

[satrs]

Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [..."would you be open to writing the lads men mocking your moans?" ] ¡! ❞

A/N; sowrryyy that I took so long luv :(( This also turned into sum rambling ig, oopsiii! regardless, still hope u enjoyyy^^

XAVIER

Your back arches against the mattress, fingers frustatingly tangled in the sheets while a breath, broken and uneven slips from your lips.

Xavier's kneeling between your legs, still fully clothed except for the shirt he shed somewhere he couldn't care less about right now. His hands are warm and firm on your thighs, holding them open as his mouth hovers just barely above your dripping heat.

"You really can't help it, can you?" he murmurs, voice low and dark with amusement, voice fanning right against puffy clit. "All I did was touch you, and you're already a mess as it is."

You shudder when his fingers slide slowly up your inner thighs, barely grazing your aching cunt.

He's doing it on purpose, of course he is.

Whimpers and wails of pleases escape you and a rush of blood hurries to your cheeks at his intense gaze, boyish grin already saying it all.

"Do you hear yourself right now?" he taunts, inching closer. "P-p-please, Xav'—"

He spurts it out in a high-pitched mock of your voice, smirk firm on his lips as he plants a sharp kiss just above your clit.

You jolt, hips twitching up with a choked cry, thighs twitching around his firm grip.

"Hushhh," he teases, running his tongue over his teeth as his eyes scan your clenching hole. "You're so loud, angel. If you want me to do something, you better keep quiet."

His mouth finally dips lower at your eager nod, licking a slow stripe up your folds, and your moan rips out of you before you can even think about biting it back.

"Mhmmm, like that Xav'! L-love— o-oh!"

At that he chuckles, kitten licks adoring your clit as his teasing glare digs holes into your eyes. "Can't help yourself, hm? What did you say? 'L-loveeee it, Xav'?"

He flattens his tongue against your clit and sucks, hard, and your cry is near-pornographic. Your thighs tremble, and he grins wider, eyes never leaving your face as two fingers slide into you, curling just right.

"Ohhh, there it is again," he croons, dragging his tongue along your inner thigh, voice mocking.

His fingers thrust harder, wrist slapping against your clit with each ruthless curl of his until your back arches clean off the bed.

"Oh, you liked that, huh?"

"M-mhmm!— Js' like that, Xav'!"

"'f course you do." he muses, "You're so damn easy, you know that?"

Yeahhh, you know. You also know that he loves that about you.

ZAYNE

"There she is."

His voice is a husky purr right against your neck, his cock burried deep inside you, twitching agains your gooey walls with each breathless whimper of yours.

You try to push his hips away at his brutal thrusts, his hands moving quick to pin your wrists above your head.

"My darling wife," he murmurs, tilting his head, eyes drinking in every shiver that runs through your body, smirk twitching up his lips as he agnles his hips just right, robbing a devastating whimper from you. "always so noisy. Cute."

Fuh—fuck! Zayne, m'—"

"What, darling? You're gonna- gonna c-c-cum?"

"Nghhh, Zayne! Q-quit it!"

"Quit it? Huh."

He pulls out just an inch and rolls his hips in slow circles, light coal colored trail of hair teasing your aching clit when suddenly his smug snicker meets your ear.

"But you sound like you're enjoying it, darling."

You writhe beneath him, arching into the friction when his grip tightens around your wrists. "O-ohhh—!"

"Mm-mmm. Quite vocal today, are we?" He tsks, tone so cruely mocking you can't help but sob in embarrassment.

"'Z-Zayne, please—just—just wanna— nghhh! wanna—'" you're a mess, voice echoing in a breathy whine. "'Can't take it no more!"

You choke on a whimper as he grinds his swollen tip delicously against your g-spot, watching your every expression twist with a big fat smirk on his face.

"Now now", he speeds up, pelvic creating a mind-numbing friction to your pulsating clit, low growl indicating that he himself is barely holding onto a thread, "What happened to my composed little darling, hmm?"

His beefy arms make quick work to throw your legs lazily over his bread shoulders, your back arching as he leans down, cock sliding even deeper into you.

"R-right there! Zayne, fuh—fuck!"

Your legs jerk at his sharp thrust, his sheer, raw girth still managing to leave you gasping and panting every damn time. And once you clench that thight pussy of yours around him like a vice, trapping him so deep inside you, he looses it.

"Gods above." It's just a breathy whisper but you know he's frantic now, chasing so desperatly for your loud sobs and cries as one strong hand slides down to smack and grab a handful of your ass as if to ground himself.

"The neighbors are gonna complain either way, so why not give them something worth whining about?"

RAFAYEL

Youre nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crecent marks in their wake as your sweat-slick body trembles, thighs shaking atop of his.

Rafayel keeps his face close to yours, coral eyes heavy-lidded and lips curled in a devilish grin every time you whimper right against his kiss-swollen lips— and fuck, do you moan a lot.

"H-hahhh, js' listen to you," he hums low, voice coated in sweet honey. "Feelin' good, yeah?"

You nod frantically, lips pursed as you try to keep a moan from escaping your lips much to his displeasure.

His hips roll up into yours with a sharp plap! resounding, and your head falls into the crock of his neck, your muffled moans dim against his skin.

And he's not having it.

Slender fingers catch your jaw, forcing your gaze back to his, placing a teasing smack! to your ass as a warning.

"Ah-ah. Eyes on me, darling. Wanna see the look on yer' face when ya' sing so pretty f' me."

"N-nghhh! Raf', don't— h-hahhh!" Your whimper is loud, body twitching under the heat of his voice, and he just laughs, a piercing pound following suit.

"Ahhh, that's the one," he mocks, grin never flattening.

"'Nghh, ahhh—!' That's your favorite one, isn't it?"

Oh if only you could wipe the sass of his face.

"No can do, cutie. The sass is built in."

"Stoppp," you whisper, blood pumping loud in your ears as reality sinks on you that you just said this out loud, hand flying out to free your jaw from his grasp.

"Stop?" Rafayel echoes in mock shock, trapping your hand in his other. "But you're clenching so tight around me every time I say it, baby."

And when he starts pounding into you in earnest, all rhythm and wicked precision, the sounds you make are nothing short of obscene.

You whimpers echo over and over again as his fat mushroomy head prods at your cervix with sharp percision, stretching your exhauted cunt far beyond her limits.

"See?", his mouth is a hair's breath away from yours, a light snicker brushing your face as his eyes take in the drool forming at your mouth. Your eyes are rolled behind your lids as lewd sounds spill from you with no end, his tongue slurping up the dripping saliva from the corner of your mouth with a sinister smile.

"Yer' lovin' it."

SYLUS

The bed creaks with every thrust, your voice already hoarse from how many obscene screams and wails Sylus managed to tear out of you, his crazy girth streching you to a point beyond sanity.

He's got you on your stomach, chest pressed into the sheets with your back arched and ass high as he pounds his staggering inches deep into you. Perfect, it's just perfect— from the immense stretch to firm grip to the back of your head.

"Fuck, sweetie," a spine-chilling groan escapes him as he drags a hand up your spine. "Did you just whine?"

You're too gone to answer— mind turned to putty at this point, as his low chuckle echoes of the room's walls, pumping all of his inches right into your g-spot— bullseye.

All you can do is wail out incoherent, half-assed sentences mumbled into the spit-stained pillow that's pressed upon your flsuhed cheek, your nails digging into the sheets below you for dear life.

"Ohhhh, that's the one."

And you can already imagine that smug smirk curling on his lips as his tone turns amused. "Let's see..." he murmurs, mockingly cooing at your noisy moans, drawing his hips back just enough before slamming forward, sending you flying forward and your head barely missing the headboard by a mere inch. "ah— there it is."

He places a kiss to your temple, your sweet noises only making his cock throb harder inside you, eager for release, "That sweet little spot that makes you sing for me."

Your nails almost tear the sheets to pieces, the overwheling feeling of him hitting your g-spot over and over again so damn addictive you're at the brink of—

"Oh, honey," Sylus laughs at your pussy spasming onto the sheets, your quickering hole desperatly clenching around his solid length, panting behind you. "You sound and look a fucking mess."

"S-Shut up—!"

"'Shut up'?" he clocks you instantly, pitch rising with cruel mimicry, "Oh, please. Bold coming from the eager little bird."

"You're— fuck! You're makin' f-fun of me!"

At that, he clicks his tongue, hand tanging in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to lean down and growl in your ear.

"Baby, I'm not trying to mock you," he breathes a laugh. "I love the way you sound. You're making the filthiest music I've ever heard."

You sob into the pillow, thighs trembling, voice a wreck of moans and breathless curses as you squirm beneath him. He pulls out halfway at your antics, then slams back in, and the sound you make is straight out of a porno.

Weakly probbing onto your arms, you try to crawl forward to get any reprieve, but his hands finds your hip in a hurry, pulling you right back in place.

"Where are you going, baby?" voice laced in mockery he picks up his speed, hammering his inches to kiss at your womb, every moan of your's only spurring him on.

"We're nowhere near done yet."

CALEB

Your legs are shaking around his hips, wrists pinned above your head, and Caleb is digging deep, his hips grinding his entire cock through your quivering walls, drawing out the most desperate cries from your throat.

He grins above you, purple hues locked onto your face. "Aaaatta girl," he hums, one hand snaking down to play with your puffy clit. "Feels so good yeah? C'mon, wanna hear ya' again."

You turn your head, cheeks flushed, trying to keep it in,trying to escape from his intense gaze, but Caleb doesn't let you. Why the hell would he?

"Nahhhh," He grasps your jaw towards his face, his other hand working tight circles on your clit as your legs begin to lock around his hips, "Don'tcha fuckin' dare, baby. Wanna hear it all."

With another percise thrust his curved tip knocks at your cervix and your mouth falls open in a silent scream before a choked moan follows. He groans in approval, lips brushing your cheek, then your ear, breath hot against your skin.

"Yeahhh, js' like that." He's all grins now, dragging his lips along your jaw. "Fuck, baby, sounds like yer' falling apart. Ya' are falling apart, huh?"

"P-pleaseeee, Caleb— nghh!"

He tuts, shaking his head almost like he's disappointed, even as his hips grind deeper, his pelvic pressing his busy pad further into your budle of nerves.

"Say my name like that again and m' gonna lose it," he warns, a sharp inhale following suit. "'Caleb, please’'?" He mimics you with a cruel smile, biting at your ear. "Please what, sweetheart?"

You shudder under him, trying to catch your breath, but he rolls his hips again, making your body jolt, nails racking at his back.

"There it is again," he notes, almost to himself in a quiet whisper. "God, ya' moan like yer ashamed of it, pips'." He mocks, snickering as you bite the inside of your cheek in embarrassment.

"Tryna hide how good m' fuckin' ya?"

You gasp, biting your lip hard, but he catches that too. Of course he does.

"Don't do that," his eyes scan your face carefully. " Wanna hear that pretty mouth give me everything, mkay?"

You cry tears loose shamelessly, walls tightening around him in a desperate flutter. At that, a guttoral groan rips from his lungs before he drags his teeth along your jaw.

"So damn loud for me, baby," he praises, needy undertone audible. "Ya love when I bully that voice outta you, don'tcha?"

You nod, glossy eyes containing his reflection, weak cry leaving your lips as he places a teasing smack to your clit.

Then he leans in, kissing your swollen lips with a rough clash, voice muffled but still spilling praises into your mouth as he continues to ram right into your gushing spot with such percision you can already taste your orgasm at the tip of your tongue.

And when you finally cry out, shaking and clenching around him, Caleb grabs your legs, throwing them over his broad shoulders, helping you ride out that delicious wave of euphoria.

"Now that's my good girl."

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[cameronsbabydoll]

simon “ghost” riley x girly!reader — love island reality show headcanons (early episodes)

☆ when he first arrives on the show:

comes in quiet. big. black t-shirt. combat boots. everyone else is glammed up and he looks like he just finished a hit job in manchester.

producers try to play it up like he's the "mysterious bad boy" type, but he’s not even trying. he just doesn’t speak unless he has to. sits in the shade. watches.

first confessional he says:

“don’t really care to be here. cameras are fuckin’ annoying. someone already touched my toothpaste.”

the internet is immediately obsessed.

☆ the other girls try to flirt and he’s just?? not into it??

one girl bites her lip and says “you look like trouble” and he goes:

“i’m not. i’m worse.”

walks off.

one of the gym girls sits next to him and touches his thigh and he just stares at her hand. no words. just… disappointed dad energy.

in his confessional later:

“they’re all loud. they want attention. not my thing. don’t like the fake lashes.”

☆ then you walk in. soft voice. pink sundress. hair all pretty. a little nervous.

he notices you immediately. not in a wow she’s hot way. in a why do i wanna fold her up and put her in my pocket way.

watches you talk to the other girls. listens to you say “i made everyone iced tea!” and for the first time since arriving, smiles a little. just a twitch of the mouth. blink and you miss it.

someone calls you “bambi” and he thinks it fits. soft eyes. gentle steps. heart too easy to bruise.

☆ and now he’s just… following you with his eyes constantly.

doesn’t say much. just appears near you. always.

you go to water the plants? he’s suddenly outside too.

“was hot in there,” he mutters, lighting a cig.

he’s lying.

you sit at the pool? he moves his chair.

“sun’s better over here.”

it’s not. he just wants to see your legs.

☆ in the confession booth he’s so blunt and lowkey perverse without realizing

producers ask “so what do you think of y/n?”

“pretty little thing. voice like honey. tits look good in that top. makes me wanna do things.”

sips water. completely deadpan.

“don’t want her around the other lads. they’re all smilin’ at her. makes me want to bury ‘em.”

☆ the girls talk about him and you’re just like 😳

“he’s scary. doesn’t even blink. i swear he was staring at the kettle for twenty minutes.”

“i saw him sniff your shampoo bottle when you left it by the sink.”

you’re like… he’s just misunderstood (no babe he’s pervy and weird but it’s hot.)

☆ when you’re paired for a game, he goes dead serious.

“don’t drop her,” he mutters to the other guy.

“she’s too easy to break. be gentle or i’ll fuckin’ break your hands.”

it’s supposed to be a fun, flirty competition. he’s ready to throw hands. for you. a girl he’s said 4 words to.

☆ when you finally talk to him, he’s awkward but kind of charming?? in a dark war criminal way??

you: “do i make you nervous?”

him: “not nervous. distracted.”

you: “by what?”

him: “mouth. skirt. thighs. that little laugh you do. i could go on.”

☆ and suddenly twitter’s in shambles like

"ghost is so hot he’s like if PTSD wore cologne”

"he hasn’t smiled once and i want him to spit in my mouth"

"the way he looks at her like he’s gonna ruin her life and then build her a bookshelf"

[lemonlover1110]

𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬

Sukuna

Pairing: Knight!Sukuna x Queen!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Smut, Cheating, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Fingering

Sukuna loves the risk. Ever since his promotion as the queen's guard, he knew life would become boring but who would've thought he'd like this position better.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

“You’re such an asshole.” You giggle as Sukuna lifts your dress, getting right between your legs. He does everything in his power to get you caught. He knows the risk that comes with it but he simply doesn’t care. Sukuna loves the risk, even when he knows he could die at the end of a sword.

The sun is still out, and the palace roams for you. And yet here you are, hiding out with the man that’s supposed to protect you. A queen hiding out from her servants, from her own king for a few minutes of pleasure. You were never this type of woman but he brings out the worst in you.

He shushes you, calloused fingers caressing your inner thighs as his eyes land on his prey. He loves the adrenaline rush. He loves the fact that he’s turned a dull job into a complete and utter thrill. His death is at the tip of a spear. One misstep from a servant could end this all in the most violent way, and in his fucked up head, he loves it.

“Make it quick–” You order as he pushes your panties to the side, spitting on your cunt. Your breath gets caught up in your chest, and you bite down your lip as you feel his tongue run through your folds. Your hands go to the back of his head, pulling him closer. 

Sukuna sucks on your clit, pushing two fingers inside you, curving them just right. He wants to hear you scream. He wants damn near everyone to hear you. He wants someone to barge in as you force him to hide in the room. He loves that adrenaline rush. He loves living on the edge with you.

“Fuck… Fuck.” You mutter, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Sukuna flicks his tongue on your clit. He wants to reprimand you for your foul mouth, but his mouth is too busy to do anything else. His fingers slowly pick up speed as he moves them in and out of you.

“Suku–” Your thoughts are cut off by footsteps near the room. Footsteps that he so clearly hears, yet chooses to ignore because he's too deep in a nectar and he refuses to stop until he’s satisfied. You cover your mouth as you realize he has no intention of stopping. Instead he does everything in his power to get you to break.

“Wait… There’s someone–” A moan escapes your lips as he hits just the right spot. You’re pulling on his hair, trying your best to contain yourself. “Fuck, fuck– Wait, Sukuna–”

You have to stop him, hearing the footsteps get closer. You have to get him off you, ears perked up to see if someone threatens to open the door. Sukuna doesn’t take it seriously though, hand going to his belt to undo it. For a knight, he sure lacks caution.

“I heard he’s pressing you for an heir.” He begins as he unbuckles his belt. You bite down your lip, watching as he gets undressed. There’s people right outside, you really shouldn’t. There’s a smug smile on his face, absolutely thrilled over his misdeeds– Over your lack of loyalty. His lips land on yours momentarily before they go down your neck. “I’ll help you in the process.”

“And when the baby comes out with pink hair and a wicked smile? What then?” Your back is arching as Sukuna kisses your cleavage. 

“We’ve fooled him long enough,” is all he manages to say. And for a moment you’re actually convinced. He nibbles on your earlobe before he whispers, “We’ve been sneaking around right under his nose, and he hasn’t caught on.”

“You’re evil.” You giggle as his hands go between your legs again. “Let’s do it.”

“Hmmm… Spell it out for me.” He replies, slowly pulling his pants down.

“Fuck a baby into me.” You respond, and just as he spreads your legs, you hear the doorknob. Your eyes widen and you push Sukuna off you, trying to fix yourself before anyone catches you looking indecent. 

“Get under the bed.” You order, knowing that it’ll be difficult for someone as big and muscular as Sukuna to fit underneath, but the room is too big for him to get anywhere else in a matter of seconds. You’re burning up, feeling as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest.

“It’s a little too early for a nap, no?” You hear your husband’s voice, and you sheepishly smile, smoothing out your dress.

“Dear, what are you doing here?” You sound guilty as charged. You hear some whining underneath the bed, causing you to kick it as loud as you possibly can.

“Where’s your knight?” He inquires, noting the room smells different. You clearly weren’t here alone. “Is he in here?”

“My knight?” You respond. “Oh, Sukuna! I let him off the hook early. I’m feeling unwell.”

“Really?” His eyes narrow, noting an unusual shadow from under the bed. You notice.

“But since you’re here.” You stand up, walking over to him and wrapping your hands behind his neck. You’ll entertain him enough for Sukuna to get out of the room. It wouldn’t be the first time.

[hansoeii]

I can excuse a lot when it comes to Doctor Who. But jesus christ, what was that?!? You have the incredible Ncuti Gatwa right there, and you just waste it???? I'm genuinely just so incredibly sad over this. I absolutely ADORE Ncuti Gatwa in this role, but my god, this writing is just...so bad. He didn't even get to face a dalek, cybermen, or the master!!! What is this!! All the incredible stories you could've written, but instead, you do this. You have your first black and very openly queer doctor right there, and you do nothing with it. The stories we could've gotten!!! The potential!!! I'm so SAD.

This show really needs to step away from Disney and start completely fresh. RTD needs to step down and give room for someone else. Someone with new, fun ideas that don't involve any kind of nostalgia bait. We need another fresh face as the Doctor, new writers, and a whole new team in general. I didn't mind the whole bigeneration and loved the specials with David Tennant, but having Ncuti Gatwa sandwiched between both David Tennant and now Billie Piper just feels incredibly rude to me. He's completely overshadowed when he's literally such an incredible Doctor.

I know that most of this mess is likely due to issues behind the scenes. The ratings were incredibly low, and disney didn't want to renew, so Ncuti Gatwa didn't want to be stuck in a limbo and potentially say no to bigger opportunities simply because he had to be the Doctor. And I totally understand him, I would've done the same. But all this could've been avoided if they simply just wrote better episodes from the beginning. They promised these seasons would be a fresh start, something easy to get into as a new fan, and that simply just wasn't the case at all. RTD is way too stuck in the past and way too focused on all these grand, big reveals that no one actually cared about, and that didn't even get resolved in the end. All we wanted were some fun, silly adventures with the Doctor and his companions. We didn't need the Disney budget and all these big villains. All we need is some fun characters with great chemistry. Throw some Daleks and some more silly aliens in there, and we're good. Why give us Sutekh, the Rani, and Omega in there all at once when you don't even have a solid script to justify it?? Just go with the classics and actually make it easier for new viewers like you promised! It's just all incredibly sad to me. So much wasted potential. I was so hopeful when Ncuti Gatwa was announced, and I'm so disappointed that this is how his run ends. He deserved so much more. I hope he knows how beloved he is in this role and I do hope we see him again in some way once this mess is resolved.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Zayne's non-mc significant other.

Imagine the perfect relationship that everybody adores and want to become. That is how your relationship with Zayne bas always been from the start and then until now. It was so flawless, he was so understand and lovable, you always felt loved by him.

Imagine on your usual get together with your friends, unlike usual, you were within distance with Zayne, just looking at him from afar as he converse into your friends. Suddenly, a friend of yours went by aand sat beside you. "You look preoccupied. A peny for your thoughts?" That made you look away from Zayne, glancing at your friend before once again looking at your lover. "Nothing, everything is... well." Perfectly well.

"Do you love him?" Your friend suddenly ask, causing you to look at her. "Of course. I love him." He was your dream guy, the one you have long been in love with ever since high-school, that silent but lovely guy that was mostly misunderstood but you knew better that he was more than his cold imagine. "He was everything I could ask for-" "Does he loves you?" She asked, her purple iris looked at a figure from afar. It was Zayne.

Imagine the way you pause, followed her eyes and there you saw your lover, looking somewhere afar. Just in time, you heard a familiar, beautiful laughter across the room. The one where Zayne eyes has been glued over for quite some time now. Following his gaze, there she was, MC. So words came out of your mouth, "Sometimes."

Imagine looking away from Zayne, you face your friend. "It's not like I'm doubting his love for me or something." You added. But the way he looks at her... the way when she laughs he immediately look around the room, same goes when someone calls her name, he always look in the crowd and you knew deep down even when he act like he doesn't care, you knew deep down he was wishing to catch a glimpse of her. "But the way he looks like her. He looks like he just realised what love is. And it scares me to think that the only reason why he was with me is because I was the only one who was there for him."

"Well darling, I'm sure he loves yo-" "Just not the same way he does with her, I know." You smile at him. And you have been okay with that, for years you were okay with that. Because you have him, he was yours. At the end of the day he belong to you and no one other than you. That one day, he would wake up and love you more than he loves her, just as much as you love him.

"I once read that loving someone could be one's exquisite form of self destruction." You started, a soft yet bitter smile making its way on your lips as you stare at your lover from afar. "And he just happened to be mine."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: looks away* I- I know! Okay? I'm sorry.

[jabberwockypie]

Oh, wow, you mean it's not helpful to label people with Inherently Just A Bad, Fucked Up Person Disease? Weird.

>Addressing stigma, the authors point out that clinicians are among the “worst offenders” in perpetuating negative stereotypes. They frequently pathologize individuals with this diagnosis, treating them as just “another borderline.” This can lead to inappropriate or even inadequate care, as “emotional instability” is sometimes used as grounds for excluding individuals from treatment.

THIS LITERALLY HAPPENED TO ME. A social worker excluded me from a program because I might be "combative" based on diagnosis alone

[maskedbyghost]

Part 2 of our boy Simon yearning for you.

The ache never eased. It just deepened, settled somewhere behind his ribs and made a home there, like a wound he couldn’t stop picking at. Days turned into nights, and nights into days, and every moment he wasn’t hearing your voice or reading your texts was a slow torture.

It wasn’t just the casual meetups, the flirty messages, or the teasing that made his pulse race. It was the way you’d brush his arm when you were laughing, the way you’d lean into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, the way you’d say his name—not “Riley” like before, but “Simon.”

It killed him. It absolutely destroyed him.

He wanted to be better than this, to be cooler, to be calm, but he wasn’t. He was coming undone at the seams, unraveling every time you were near and aching when you were gone.

He’d find himself waking in the middle of the night, breathing hard, reaching for his phone to check if you’d messaged, to see if you’d thought of him in the quiet hours when the world was asleep. And when you hadn’t, he’d drop the phone on the pillow next to him and close his eyes, trying to swallow the bitterness that rose in his throat.

Sometimes he’d dream of you, and wake up with your name on his lips, the sheets tangled around his legs, his skin burning. He’d lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much longer he could take this. How much longer could he pretend he was fine, pretend he was just your friend, when every cell in his body screamed for more?

He started pulling away, just a little. Shorter replies. Fewer emojis. He’d leave your messages on read for a little too long, trying to convince himself that if he created a little space, the longing might ease. But it didn’t.

You noticed, of course. You weren’t oblivious. One night, after another one of those meetups where he’d smiled too tightly and laughed a little too late, you caught him outside the pub. The cold bit at his skin, but the look in your eyes made him feel like he was on fire.

“Simon,” you said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, as he looked away.

“Don’t give me that. You’ve been... distant. Did I do something?”

God, you sounded worried, and that just made it worse. Because the last thing he wanted was for you to think you’d done anything wrong. It was all him. All his fault.

“No,” he said roughly, running a hand over his face. “You didn’t do anything. I just... I’m trying to get my head straight.”

Your brows drew together, and you stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of you through the cold air. “Simon, you can talk to me.”

And for a moment, he almost did. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, thick and heavy—I miss you so much it hurts. I think about you all the damn time. I can’t stand being near you because I’m falling apart inside.

But he couldn’t. Because if he said it, if he let it all spill out, he didn’t know what you’d do. Didn’t know if you’d pull away, if you’d laugh it off, or if you’d tell him you didn’t feel the same.

So he just gave you a smile and said, “I’m fine. Really. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

And he left you there on the sidewalk, staring after him, while his heart cracked open in his chest...

It was unbearable.

Days passed. He told himself he was getting better at pretending, that if he ignored the ache long enough, it would go away, and that if he kept his distance from you, he’d get over this.

But of course, it didn’t work.

Every time he saw your name flash on his screen, his chest would tighten. Every time you laughed, it was like a fist closing around his throat. Every time you touched him, even casually, even just a brush of fingers as you passed him a drink or steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, he felt like his skin was going to tear open.

And then, one night, it was just too much.

You’d sent him a message—something stupid, really. A picture of your dinner with a comment like “Guess who forgot to buy pasta sauce? 😂” And he’d stared at it, thumb hovering over his screen, the ache in his chest unbearable.

He couldn’t do this anymore. So he called you.

You picked up on the second ring, your voice warm and a little breathless. “Hey, Simon. Everything okay?”

“No.” His voice was rough. “No, it’s not.”

There was a pause, a soft intake of breath on your end. “What’s wrong?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing his living room, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his skull. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice cracking. “I can’t pretend everything���s fine. I can’t keep acting like I’m just your friend. I can’t... I can’t stand being near you and not—”

“Not what?” you whispered.

“Not have you,” he said hoarsely. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long it’s driving me insane. And I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not.”

“Simon,” you said softly, “why didn’t you say anything before?”

He let out a sharp, broken laugh, a sound like something cracking apart. “Because I was scared. Because I didn’t know if you felt the same. Because I thought maybe you’d laugh it off, or tell me I was reading too much into things. Because... because it’s you.”

You were quiet for a beat, then said, “Come over.”

“What?”

“Come over,” you repeated. “Right now.”

He didn’t even think, didn’t hesitate. He was out the door before he realized he hadn’t grabbed his keys.

The drive to your place was a blur, the streets smearing past in streaks of light and shadow. He didn’t remember turning off the engine or locking the door. He only remembered the way his hands trembled as he knocked, the way his breath caught when you opened the door, standing there barefoot in leggings and an old sweatshirt, your hair a little messy like you’d been running your hands through it.

“Hi,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

He stepped past you, and the second the door clicked shut behind him, it was like a dam breaking.

“I tried,” he said, his voice rough, breathless. “I tried so fucking hard to stay away. To act like I didn’t care. To tell myself this was enough. But it’s not. It’s not enough. I need you. I need to know you’re mine, that I can touch you, kiss you, be with you—”

You didn’t let him finish. You surged forward, grabbed the front of his jacket, and pulled him down into a kiss so hard and desperate it made his head spin. He stumbled back a step, hands coming up to cradle your face, your jaw, your hair. You were warm and soft and real, and he felt himself falling, falling so fast it was like the world was tilting beneath him.

“Simon,” you gasped against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair. “I’ve wanted this too. I was just... waiting for you to say something.”

A broken, breathless laugh escaped him, his forehead pressed to yours. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling, your lips brushing his.

He kissed you again, slower this time, pouring everything he’d been holding back into it—all the longing, all the frustration, all the desperation that had been eating him alive for months. His hands roamed, memorizing the curve of your hips, the softness of your waist, and the line of your spine. You were here, you were his, and for the first time in so long, he felt whole.

“Stay,” you whispered, lips against his throat. “Don’t go home tonight.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he murmured, and when he kissed you again, it wasn’t desperate—it was everything he’d been aching for.

---------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog

[satoblue]

“THE THINGS I DO FOR THE ONE I LOVE” — gojo satoru

it’s that time of month — you have to cut your husband’s toenails. | wc: 1.1k

f!reader, established relationship (the beautiful mr. and mrs. gojo), disgusting fluff, you clip satoru’s toenails monthly aka one of your wifely duties, his feet stink btw, banter upon banter, he is a gross man tbh, but guys . did you know? d-did you know that i LOVE him? 🥹 this fic seems fitting to release now as it is the first of the month which is when you snip them like a fresh haircut, based on this talk post of mine. | dividers made by me

it’s the day you dread the most every month.

not paying bills. not going to the dentist. not even the start of your period.

no — it’s toenail clipping day.

you sit cross legged on the couch, nail clippers in hand as if you’re preparing for battle. which you are… in a way.

and right on cue, satoru flops onto the couch — shirt half untucked, hair an adorable mess, and smugness dialed up to eleven. he leans back, arms folded behind his head, grunting with exaggerated satisfaction as he gets comfortable.

and with the casual entitlement of a man who’s never once been told “no” — he drops his feet into your lap.

you shoot him a glare. but as always, he’s completely unfazed.

“i don’t know how you haven’t fallen even more in love with me during these intimate bonding sessions,” he smiles as he wiggles his very large, very unwashed toes at you.

you stare at his feet. then at him. then back to his feet before sighing deeply.

“the things i do for you,” you mutter.

he flashes that lazy grin. “domestic bliss, baby. we’ve got it all.”

“you realize these things smell like they’ve been stewing in your shoes for over eight hours, right?”

which, unfortunately — they have. school lessons, missions — and who knows what else. he hasn’t had a moment to change or even breathe since this morning.

“yeah,” he shrugs, eyes closing like he’s settling in for a nap. “extra seasoning.”

“satoru.” you lean away slightly, nose wrinkling.

“yes, love of my life?”

“did you seriously come straight from work without even showering?”

“might’ve taken a detour to the fridge first. priorities, babe. gotta refuel before the spa treatment.” he replies with a grunt, scooting down further into the cushions with a satisfied little “ahhh” when he finds the sweet spot.

you click your tongue in disapproval and grab his ankle, yanking his foot closer as you resign yourself to your fate.

focus on the job. get it done.

“you left your socks on the kitchen table by the way.”

“oh. that was a love offering.” he admits casually with a shrug, not even a little bit sorry.

“they were wet, satoru.”

“extra heartfelt.”

you don’t even give that one a response.

but just as you start working, you feel it — the subtle shift in weight, the telltale movement. then suddenly his foot is right in your face, toes wiggling and nudging you.

you squeal and jerk back like he just threw a dirty dishcloth at you.

“you absolute animal!” you snap while he cackles. “do that again and i’ll cut you.” you hiss angrily through your teeth, holding the clippers up threateningly like a weapon.

satoru pauses just enough to keep still. “you’re really gonna threaten bodily harm on sweet, little ol’ me over a toe boop?”

“yes. yes, i am. and i promise — every time you take your socks off, you will remember this moment.”

“wahhh, i married such a violent woman,” he sighs fondly — batting his lashes like he finds it dreamy and romantic.

“you married someone willing to touch your nasty feet once a month.”

he gazes at you with a little smile that softens at the edges. “yeah… lucky me.”

you blink, caught off guard by the sincerity for just a second. then you roll your eyes and go back to clipping with a huff.

you know his toes better than you’d like to admit by now — how much pressure he likes, which corners are sensitive, how he always relaxes fully after the second toe. there is something stupidly tender about the whole thing — even with him being a pain the entire time.

and maybe it’s in the way he allows himself to be vulnerable with you during even the gross parts. the domestic parts. the ridiculous parts that no one else gets to see but you — his wife.

“by the way,” you say flatly, not looking up. “i found one of your socks under my pillow yesterday.”

“i was scent marking your side of the bed.”

you pause, turning to look at him. “i am this close to filing for divorce.”

he beams like he knows exactly how much he’s testing you. “but who else is gonna trim my toes while whispering sweet nothings?”

“you mean threats?”

“tomato, tomahto.” he pokes at your thigh with one toe. “to be fair, you did say you missed me today.”

“i didn’t mean i missed your pungent scent,” you reply, clipping a nail with a sharp snap for emphasis.

“yet you still married me~,” he hums, eyes closed again, way too pleased with himself.

you pause for a second, looking at him — completely relaxed, trusting you with this like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“yeah,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. “i really did.”

“wait, what was that?” he asks, cracking one eye open.

“nothing,” you huff rather quickly, snipping another toenail.

satoru smiles knowingly. “you know, i love when you take care of me like this. so nurturing. so gentle.”

“you’re five seconds away from a stubby pinky toe.”

“okay, okay! i’ll behave,” he chuckles, hands up in surrender. “just… don’t stop.”

you shoot him a warning glance, but your hands are already moving again — steady and practiced like always. because this is satoru. your husband.

and oddly enough, you wouldn’t trade these little routines for anything.

finally, you snip the last nail and toss the clippers onto the coffee table. he lifts his feet and inspects them, wiggling his toes proudly before giving you an approving thumbs up.

“all done. now go burn those socks and take a shower.”

he groans, then scoots closer, head tilting toward you. “no kiss for your loyal client?”

“not until you wash off the foot stench.” you say, collecting his tiny nail clippings.

he pouts. “you’re heartless.”

still, he leans in anyway, puckering his lips dramatically like a cartoon duck. you dodge him with a scoff, barely hiding your smile.

“and you’re disgusting.”

but a few minutes later — with his feet marginally cleaner and his body curled into yours — he rests his head on your shoulder with a soft, content sigh — like he’s just been pampered at a five star spa instead of mildly threatened in his own home.

gross, loveable idiot.

the things you do for him.

still, you do toss his socks into the laundry basket with tongs later. just for your own peace of mind.

[communist-hatsunemiku]

Something I always think about is how being a bleeding heart hippy-dippy do-gooder is actually completely aligned with being a cold, calculating "facts dont care about your feelings" person.

Like actually caring for and accommodating everybody, preserving the environment and natural resources, prioritizing human beings over profit margins, and just generally being nice! All these things are actually in your best interest! All these things lead to better productivity, stability and security! From a totally self-centered, selfish view of the world and your fellow humans, you should still land here if you actually are cold and calculating like you claim.

Cruelty and disregard for other people leads to all kinds of wasted resources and inefficient practices, it leads to volatility and unforeseen consequences! Like i realize that the person who claims to be "cold and logical" is actually anything but, it just drives me crazy how people seem to think there are material benefits to that rationale when the opposite is true

[dykebehaviour]

better than her

bandmate!ellie x reader

🎸summary: your ex never deserved you. ellie’s been saying that for years, and tonight you’re finally ready to believe her.

🎧cw: 18+ explicit content, fem!reader, hurt/comfort, finger sucking, lowkey oral fixation!ellie if you squint, fingering, strap on, thigh riding, overstimulation, yes they’ve kissed before and no it didn’t count.

🎵a/n: first time posting a smutty fic im nervoussss anyway hope you like it :))

⭐️wc: 2.6k

you’ve opened ellie’s bedroom window four thousand times this week. but this one’s different.

you’re not carrying your bass, no wires slung over your shoulder, no harmonies half-mumbled under your breath. just your hoodie pulled over your hands, cheeks flushed from the night air and the half-sprint you did to get here.

ellie’s sitting on her bed when you come in, half-asleep, notebook open on her lap and headphones crooked on her neck. she blinks once, then twice - then her mouth pulls into that half-smirk she always gets when she sees you.

“broke up with her?” she says, no hello, no preamble, because ellie knows you too well for pleasantries.

you nod. you don’t really trust your voice yet. but the second she stands up and takes one step toward you, it’s like your whole chest unknots.

“i was right,” she murmurs, close now. her hand touches your waist like she doesn’t want to push too hard. “she didn’t deserve you.”

you let out this weak little sound that isn’t quite a laugh, isn’t quite a sob. “why’d you never say ‘i told you so’?”

she lifts her brows, grins. “you’d cry, and then i’d feel bad.”

you do cry, actually - but it’s not about your ex. it’s about her. it’s about standing this close to ellie williams, the only person who’s ever looked at you like you’re worth something, and realising that her dumb little jokes about treating you better weren’t jokes at all.

she wipes your tears with her thumbs, and kisses you so softly it makes your knees buckle. and then she says:

“you know i wasn’t kidding, right? i meant it. i could fuckin’ ruin you for anyone else.”

you swallow hard. “do it then.”

ellie tastes like cherry chapstick and a little weed and way too much patience.

you straddle her thigh on her bed while she licks into your mouth like she’s been dying for it. the hoodie’s long gone, your shirt pushed up, her calloused fingers rubbing tight, slow circles into your already soaked panties.

“god, you’re so wet for me already?” she murmurs, sounding genuinely awed. “baby, you’re fuckin’ dripping.”

you moan - actually moan - into her neck, your hips grinding down against the strong muscle of her thigh. it’s too much already and not enough. you’ve kissed before, fucked around a little drunk at parties, always blamed it on the night. but this?

this is the kind of tension that makes your stomach twist.

she pulls back just enough to press two fingers to your lips. “c’mon,” she says. “open up.”

and of course you do. of course you suck her fingers in all slow and sweet, tongue curling around the tips while your lashes flutter like you’re embarrassed.

“fuck,” she mutters, voice wrecked. “gonna make you taste yourself next.”

you whimper and clench down around nothing.

ellie’s laugh is low, hot in your ear. “yeah. you like that, huh?”

she kisses down your chest, sloppy and wet, teeth nipping at your nipple through your bra until you’re arching into her, panting her name. and then she’s got her hand in your panties, sliding two fingers in with no resistance at all.

your back bows.

“oh my god-ellie-“

“i know, baby. i know. you’re fuckin’ perfect,” she whispers, pumping in deep, curling her fingers just right, thumb rubbing in tight circles on your clit. “gonna take care of you, yeah? make up for every second she didn’t know what the fuck to do with you.”

you’re already close. but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. just keeps kissing you like she’s starving, fingers fucking into you until your thighs shake around her wrist and your hips stutter forward, chasing every bit of friction.

you finish with a full-body twitch and a sob into her mouth.

but she doesn’t stop.

“ohh, we’re not done,” she says, grinning against your lips, cocky now. “c’mon. up.”

you’re on your back, legs open, ellie between them with the strap buckled low on her hips.

she knows how good she looks like this. hair messy, arms braced on either side of your head, tatted fingers gripping your thighs. her eyes flick down to where she’s slowly rolling her hips against you, teasing at your entrance with the tip of her cock.

“beg for it,” she says, voice a little raspy.

you do.

you’re already flushed, skin damp with sweat, lips swollen from kissing. you don’t even try to act cool about it. you just whine her name and say, “please, please, I want it so bad-“

she moans. like, actually moans at that. “fuck, okay. you ask, i deliver.”

and then she pushes in. slow. deep. every inch until she bottoms out and you’re gasping, nails digging into her shoulders.

“you’re so fucking tight,” she growls, starting to move. “taking me so fuckin’ good. look at you.”

you can’t. your eyes are rolling back, lips parted, little whimpers spilling out every time her hips snap forward. it’s so much. it’s too much. you’re still sensitive from her fingers, clit throbbing where it rubs against the base of her strap.

but you don’t want her to stop.

“ellie-ellie, i can’t-“

“you can,” she says, almost sweet. “you will. i’m gonna make you come again, baby. gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

you do. again. harder than before. and then she keeps going.

at some point you’re on top of her thigh again, riding it like you’ll die if you stop.

she’s lying back, watching you with such pride on her face. hands guiding your hips, jaw slack as she watches your slick smearing all over her thigh.

“that’s it, baby. look at you - fuckin’ dripping. all that for me, huh?”

you’re a mess. lip quivering, thighs trembling, drooling down her throat from all the sloppy kisses.

she grabs your chin, makes you look at her. “ride it, pretty girl. come on my thigh. show me what that loser never got.”

you do. with a sob, again. her hands don’t stop rubbing. she slips her fingers into your mouth again and you suck them instinctively, tasting yourself like she promised.

your whole body’s shaking. you want to stop. you can’t.

she makes you come one more time like that. then once more with her tongue - very sloppy, very loud, one hand under your thigh and the other holding you down while she moans into your pussy like she’s never going to get enough.

after, you’re trembling against her chest, still panting. she’s brushing your hair back, kissing your temple, whispering things like so “fuckin’ good for me”, and “knew you were mine the second you stepped through that window.”

you say, into her neck: “you weren’t kidding.”

and she just laughs. “told you i could do better.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Could you write a Lando with a toddler daughter, where they're doing fan stage, and Yn runs on stage asking for a snack and ends up staying to build the Legos they have for challenges

Fan Stage

The summer sun was high over the paddock, the roar of excitement echoing from the packed fan stage ahead. Lando stepped onto the platform, his usual cheeky grin spreading as he waved at the sea of fans. Oscar followed closely behind, a wide smile on his face as the crowd erupted into cheers.

“Hellooo!” Lando called into the mic, drawing out the ‘o’ like he always did, making the fans giggle.

Oscar leaned into his mic. “Hi, everyone! Thanks for coming out today—it’s hot, huh?”

“Too hot,” Lando said dramatically, tugging at the collar of his papaya team shirt. “I’m about two degrees from melting, but it’s worth it for you guys.”

The fans screamed louder, some holding up signs that read things like “LAN-DAD FOR PRESIDENT” and “OSCAR MARRY ME (please)” which Lando squinted at and chuckled.

They sat down on the tall stools, the bright orange and blue backdrop glowing behind them. On a small table to the side sat a pile of Lego bricks—the usual fan challenge. Build something in ten minutes. Fastest wins. Lando always cheated by just building a wall and declaring it “modern art.”

As they were halfway through answering questions, Lando turned slightly at the sound of tiny feet pounding up the steps behind them.

“Daddy!”

Lando’s eyes widened, twisting around just in time to see a small whirlwind sprinting toward him—messy curls bouncing, a glittery McLaren cap slightly askew on her head, and a pink stuffed animal clutched in one hand.

“Yn?” he laughed, instantly standing and crouching to catch her as she barreled into him.

“I’m hungry,” she whined dramatically, burying her face in his chest.

A chorus of “Awww!” rippled through the crowd as fans caught sight of her. Phones were already up, recording, capturing every second of the sweet chaos.

Oscar burst out laughing. “She’s got perfect comedic timing.”

Lando lifted Yn up into his arms and turned back to the audience. “Sorry guys, brief intermission. Apparently snack time takes priority over, uh, global fan engagement.”

Yn looked out at the crowd with wide brown eyes and gave a shy wave.

More “awwws.”

“She’s so cute!” someone yelled.

Another held up a sign they quickly scribbled on: “GIVE YN A SNACK OR WE RIOT!”

Oscar read it and nearly fell off his stool laughing.

Lando gently set Yn down near the Lego table. “You wanna hang out here for a bit, bubba?”

“Can I build?” she asked, already reaching for a bright blue brick.

“Of course you can,” Lando smiled, brushing her curls back with his fingers.

She plopped herself cross-legged on the stage, directly in front of Lando’s feet, humming softly to herself as she started building with pure toddler determination.

“Okay,” Lando said, chuckling into the mic, “you all now have front-row seats to what my living room looks like 90% of the time.”

Oscar leaned in toward the audience. “She’s already better than Lando at building.”

“I heard that,” Lando muttered, a grin tugging at his lips as he absently stroked Yn’s hair while answering the next fan question.

“Lando, how’s it being a dad on the road?” a fan shouted.

Lando’s gaze softened, glancing down at the tiny head now tilted in deep concentration, tongue poking out slightly as she tried to connect two oddly shaped pieces.

“It’s… amazing. Hard sometimes. There is a lot of packing, a scarily huge number of Barbies, and I know every episode of Bluey by heart now. But she’s my favourite travel buddy,” he said. “And she’s got a VIP pass to everything.”

Oscar nodded, glancing at Yn. “She makes the paddock like, ten times happier.”

“She’s our little team boss,” Lando added, smirking. “Tells the engineers when I need juice and gives me hugs before quali. I mean… who else gets that kind of support?”

More cheering. Someone held up a sign that read: “TEAM YN > EVERYONE ELSE” in glittery purple.

“Honestly, true,” Oscar said, showing the sign to the cameras.

Yn, still focused, suddenly raised a hand. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I need the square one. The green square one.”

Lando squatted beside her, quickly rummaging through the pile until he found it and handed it to her like it was a precious gem.

“There you go, boss.”

“Thank you,” she said, sticking her tongue out slightly as she snapped it into place.

“Perfectionist,” Lando whispered to Oscar with a proud smile.

After about twenty minutes—far longer than either of them anticipated spending on stage—Lando finally glanced at the time and winced.

“I think we have to wrap it up, unfortunately,” he told the crowd.

There was a collective groan from the fans, followed by someone yelling, “Let Yn host the next Q&A!”

“Tempting,” Lando laughed, picking up Yn with practiced ease. “She’d probably do a better job.”

“Can I take the Legos?” Yn whispered sleepily against his shoulder.

Oscar stepped in, gently scooping the semi-formed Lego castle. “Don’t worry, we’re bringing it with us. I got it. Sir Lego Security at your service.”

“Thanks, Oskie,” she mumbled, her eyes already fluttering shut as she clung to her dad’s shirt.

Fans waved and cheered as the trio made their way off stage—Lando holding his sleepy daughter tightly against his chest, Oscar following with the Lego creation carefully balanced in his arms.

Once they were off-stage and a little more out of view, Lando looked over at Oscar and grinned.

“Think we just made Yn the most famous person in the paddock.”

Oscar chuckled. “Mate, I think she just stole the whole show.”

Lando looked down at Yn, whose breathing had evened out, her tiny hand still gripping his shirt.

“She always does,” he said softly. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-♡○♡

[silksongeveryday]

also sorry about the inactivity, I adopted a cat so she’s been taking up most of my time

[shinoko-oshi]

Simon likes when you worried about him

Simon was sick. God, he had to be.

Sick if it made his cock twitch every time he came home with a fresh bruise or a new cut and the first thing you did was drop everything, rushing to his side with furrowed brows and worried hands, little compared to his.

Always asking if he was okay, even when he already told you he was fine. Not that it was your fault, not when he made the stories sound worse than they were.

That shallow nick on his arm from Johnny slipping while cleaning his blade? No, sweetheart, that was from an enemy ambush. Caught him off guard, pushed him hard into a concrete wall and slashed his arm with a veryy sharp knife.

He might’ve even blacked out a bit, hard to say.

Sex was even better when he was hurt, because you slowed down, you were gentle, whispering are you okay? like it would stop the ache. You made love to him like he was breakable and fuck if that didn’t ruin him.

He, on the other hand, was a bastard.

His shoulder was barely healed, and here he was already flipping you on your stomach, ignoring your squeals of protest, “Simon— be careful!”

He nearly came just from that sound alone, the way you worried even while your body trembled beneath his.

Maybe he even started doing it on purpose.

Slowing down just enough to get clipped, a bruise here and there, sometimes a gash. Nothing fatal nor serious. Just enough to limp through the door and earn that panicked little gasp from you.

But you didn’t need to know that part, sweetheart.

Just keep fussing over him, cupping his face with worried hands, kissing the bruise on his jaw like it hurt you more than him.

Yeah, no he’d be fine

I have barely been active on tumbler recently so I apologize for that and the fact this is lowkey short lmao

[abyssyby]

How will Silus react to a son who shows dragon instincts (stealing something shiny, collecting and keeping it as a treasure, etc.)?

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: hi hi! thanks for sending this in hehe kinda got away from me, but this was extremely fun to think about and i hope you like it! ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

i think he'd be deeply amused! i have a personal headcanon that sylus actually isn't rid of his dragon form/abilities in this life, he's just more powerful and strong enough to mask them now 24/7 hehe

what throws him mostly is when the kids express their want to be like him (because of the implications of that and his own perception of himself). but their natural instincts and traits, sylus expected that and now takes it on as a challenge to hone and help with.

sylus & his family | sylus x reader | a fight between the little twins (´•̥ ᵔ •̥`) angst, fluff, family dynamics, exploring the littles' draconic traits!

Lucian is more his father's son in terms of more outward, classic draconic traits— seeking height to fly, collecting trinkets and treasures, easily allured by shiny and pretty things. Did he not have a twin to bond with (and very social older brothers), Lucian would have had trouble sharing/socializing. He can be very territorial and protective with things he thinks he is responsible for (ex. a specific dino plushie from the big twins, a spot on the couch, a blanket, Kyros).

Sylus's role with Lucian is trying to find that balance of what he can do to regulate himself as a little boy and at the same time not repress any of the inherent instincts he cannot help. He reminds him often that it's okay to act accordingly as long as he isn't malicious or mean.

"You have to choose the better choice." Sylus would say, drawing a sobbing Lucian into his embrace after a fight with Kyros. "Do you want to protect your hoard or your brother?" "But is my trinky." Lucian hiccups, pushing through sudden painful inhales. He clutches the clicky little egg toy in his hand (think bakugan), which weighs heavier with the guilt every passing second he stews in his mistake. Sylus sighs, voice low and gentle. "You yelled at Kyros." "I sorry!" "I know you are, angel." Sylus frowns. His heart aching at the confusion in Lucian's face— wondering what he did wrong, why his need to defend was a bad thing, why he was getting scolded when it was Kyros who took the toy without permission. "But you really hurt Kyros." Little fingers stop their fidgeting on the trinket. smaller, quieter, Lucian murmurs. "I not mean it..." "Papa, I feel bad here," Lucian says, taking Sylus's hand and placing it on his chest. Like he wants to puke. Like he wants to scream. Like he wants to cry his insides out. "Don't like it." Sylus holds him tightly— allowing his presence to be whatever Kyros might need at this moment. He thinks it inadequate, but what he doesn't consider is that it is infinitely more than he had before he met you. And for now, it is enough. "Maybe we say sorry to Kyros? What do you think?" "I give yellow trinky?" he is still shaky when he pitches it. clutching his precious crimson trinket to his chest. "Red one is mine. but- he can borrow. but—but this mine." "That's a start," Sylus kisses his brow. It's not a perfect bow-tied solution, but it's his own. and it's clever and kind and still Lucian. and Sylus cannot be prouder. "Let's go find your brother."

Kyros's qualities are more inert, subtle. He is still territorial and protective— just not to the extent of a Lucian-like reaction of yelling or snarling. If his little hoard is breached, he'd probably harbor a deep sense of resentment towards whoever did so. He remembers everything— the kindness, the betrayal. He trusts gradually yet deeply and isn't the easiest to ask for a second chance.

Kyros's traits manifest in him being watchful and vigilant, protecting his space and his circle more than his trinkets and treasures. He prefers being alone with the exception of his family— and yet even then, he still has moments where you'd find him wandering away from Lucian and the big twins to check on his own stuffies in another room or just rearrange some toys in his collections.

He's deeply sensory-seeking! Kyros is very sensitive to specific sounds (you and sylus humming into his temple so he feels it resonate in his skull), vestibular and tactile input (squeezy-squeezes!), scents (papa's brings the most comfort of all because of that time he was sick).

Sylus's own instincts would urge him to protect him, shelter and hide. But he knows that isn't the better choice. So instead, he teaches grounding to Kyros when his instincts tell him to float away. To hide, but always come back home.

Kyros hates loud sounds— when the karaoke mic goes wrong, when the trumpets on papa's CDs start shouting, when something falls off a shelf and makes a loud thud!. He's gotten better at reacting to them, and no longer has that instinct to cry or yell when it happens. His tantrums come from not being able to rearrange the things that get jumbled inside his head when he is startled like that. He shares that with his father— a replica of home in their mind with everything in its perfect place. But unlike him, Kyros has yet to keep his composure when it is rattled. Sylus teaches him to organize, arrange and at the same time be flexible with it. He was taught that he could grit his teeth, put his head between his knees, and count to ten until it passed. Or simply go to papa or mama when it doesn't. But this sound— this sound creates a landslide in his mind, a devastation far too great to reorganize all by himself. "Go away, Kyros!" Lucian's voice is hoarse as he yells the curse at the top of his lungs. Kyros freezes. His limbs stone and fire all at once. His vision is reduced to blurs of color as the tears build and blind him. He doesn't know what to do, and when Sylus emerges from the other room at the sound, his instinct is to run. Hide. Not be seen, perceived. Alone— where he can't be hurt. You find him in his bedroom, frozen on his bed. clenching and unclenching fists, eyes crystalline with unshed tears. "My love." you coo in sympathy, gently curling yourself around him, taking him into your arms, and placing him in the cradle of your crisscrossed legs. He lets the tears fall then, quiet still. Clinging to your warmth, your scent. Fists crumpling the soft fabric of your shirt. You don't talk, but your fingers intertwine with his, and you draw him closer to your chest as you breathe the way you want him to. Your hand squeezes his palm, the hinges and joints of his fingers, wrists, elbows, and shoulders. Then a familiar forgotten lullaby is hummed into his temple as you kiss him tenderly. When he is no longer wound, no longer rigid like scales but soft like the baby you reared, he speaks. voice small, rusted, and fragile. "I make cian mad." You nod. He did. You saw his twin crying to his papa before you raced off to find him. "I no mean it." his lip wobbles just as his words. "I just... want to see." You hum, listen to him. It's what he needs, to be heard. And when he is ready to listen to you too, you offer: "Lucian probably didn't mean it either." Kyros pouts. "He yelling at me." "But he cried too." you say, smoothing his hair, meeting his eyes. "Lucian doesn't like hurting you." His brow furrows. He knows that is true. His mind struggles, but he places each totem, each memory, and each fact back on their shelves. Just as Sylus taught him to do so. Hide, fix, then come back home. Lucian loves him. Lucian loves his clicky red dragon. Lucian lets him borrow things when he asks. "Mama, I grab the—the trinky," he confesses, fingers finding solace in playing with yours. "Is that why you think he yelled?" "A-huh." your heart corrodes in your chest at the sound of his heavy confirmation. "Cian no like grabby hands. I sorry." You smile— admiring the depths of your son's little mind palace. What you would give to be able to roam its halls and behold its many wonders. "Maybe he needs to hear that from you when you're ready, hm?" he nods. "I ready, mama."

𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

You take him to his brother, who is already on his way to him too. sylus kneels to set Lucian down, and you nudge Kyros gently. "I sorry I take—take your trinky." Kyros says first, hands behind his back both to keep himself composed and to show Lucian that he won't be a threat any longer. "Sorry I yelled loud." Lucian hiccups, still shaken at what he'd done. Haunted by how Kyros looked when he did it. He extends his hand, and upon his outstretched palm sits a yellow version of his clicky dragon-egg-ball-trinket. "This for you." Kyros's face brightens as he accepts it. And in the blink of an eye, they are holding each other in an embrace. An ancient instinct they both share, not exactly draconic, but transcending understanding. Could be cosmic. Could be creature. Could be human. But one thing is for sure, this they've inherited proudly from their parents. A woven gift, bloodied and torn, but good. This, they share. This, they treasure. This, they protect in each other— a loyal heart, a golden soul.

✧˚ ⋆｡ read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

thank you so, so much for sending the ask & for reading! o(╥﹏╥)

[salemlunaa]

YOU ARE NOT SEPARATE FROM YOUR DESIRES

creation is finished

Hi my loves, I missed you guys and as you can see I have taken a long break, the longest break since i’ve started blogging. And in that time it lead me to reflect on so much, especially when it comes to manifestation.

And i’m here to tell you that

1. You aren’t separate from what you want

2. Creation is instant

You are an instant creator, as soon as you decide you want something it is done. For instance, let’s say whilst playing League of Legends, you get a notification telling you to come play Candy Crush. That notification wouldn’t exist without the game Candy Crush itself. If there was no such thing as Candy Crush you would not be getting a notification while playing League of Legends. It’s just like desires, a desire is like you getting a “notification” in your current reality, telling you that better one exists. If that reality didn’t exist, it wouldn’t pop into your mind like a notification. That’s how instant creation is. As soon as you want it, it exists, and you ARE it.

If you can see it in your mind you can have it. I don’t care what it is, jumping to a whole new reality, getting your dream body, revising a major event. If you can desire it, there is already a reality where you have that thing. Nothing is impossible, only the ego assigns labels to things.

And what do you have to do to get there? Absolutely nothing, nothing but living in the knowing that you are it. Once you realise that creation is finished and that time is an illusion, you collapse the illusion of time and space and you get what you want instantly.

Now why is it so effortless? Because as god, you are everything. You are not separate from your desires. The need to do techniques shows that you believe that you must do something to get your desire, and that is the illusion of separation, you believing you do something or try and be someone to created. When in fact, creation is finished and you need to do nothing but be in the present moment, knowing you have what you want.

The Idea that you need to move from A to B is an illusionistic concept. When in actuality, you are A AND B. Whether A or B is visible or invisible to you is where you decide to shift and place your consciousness.

YOU ARE ALL THAT IS 👁️🌀